


Falling to Pieces

by insominia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angelic Grace-Powered Orgasms (Supernatural), Angels are Dicks (Supernatural), Closeted Dean Winchester, Coffee Shop Owner Dean Winchester, Coming Out, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Falling In Love, Fandom Trumps Hate, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Happy Ending, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Light Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Supportive Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25111597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insominia/pseuds/insominia
Summary: Sam Winchester only wants to see his brother, Dean, settle down and be happy. It's not his fault he doesn't know that Dean is bisexual. Dean isn't about to tell him either, not with how their father had handled the news years before.When Castiel, Cas- Let's call him Cas- comes into his cafe, Dean isn't expecting the crush that follows. Not to mention any of the other stuff that comes with it... Unfortunately, he still hasn't come out and now he has two secrets from his brother balled up into one.Castiel is an angel from Heaven whose shift of watching over Earth has just ended. His brothers are late picking him up to go home but they will be here. Right? In the meantime, he meets Dean Winchester, a human who bakes and serves something called coffee. He's trapped on Earth for the foreseeable future (until his brothers show up to bring him back home to Heaven. Which they're going to do) but Dean is there for him when no one else is and Castiel finds himself falling in almost every way.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 58
Kudos: 288
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Khashana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khashana/gifts).



> For the dear Khashana as part of 2020's Fandom Trumps Hate.  
> Khashana wanted something in a similar vein to [My Brother, Dean](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17680442). It's taken me longer than I thought but initially I thought I'd only be writing about 10k words. 
> 
> Huge thanks to my beautiful beta [MaggieMaybe160](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMaybe160/works) who helped make this fic what it is and (at many points) saved both the story and my sanity. She's great like that <3 (srsly tho, she's hammering out the summary while I write this - she's amazing).
> 
> Khashana it has been a joy to craft this story for you and I hope you like it :)

* * *

There was a man standing on the sidewalk just in front of the right-hand window seat of Dean’s coffee shop. From his view at the shop’s counter, Dean could see that he was tall, had hair that looked like the guy had run his hand through it every few minutes since he’d gotten up and he definitely hadn’t been there a moment ago. Dean had been taking advantage of the usual post-lunch lull in customers to clean the machines. Doing so gave him a clear view out of the front windows onto the side-walk and granted, he hadn’t been paying particular attention to the passers-by but he was fairly sure he would have noticed the guy in the tan trench coat come to a stop, from behind Dean liked what he saw. As it was, he hadn’t seen anything and was starting to wonder how the guy could have appeared from thin air when his brother’s voice called his attention away.

“So? Dean? What do you think?”

Dean looked back from the window to where his brother, Sam, was sitting on the other side of the counter, nursing a particularly large coffee.

“About what?”

Sam sighed the long-suffering sigh of a younger brother and started again. “I was saying we should go out, get some drinks...” he raised his eyebrows at Dean, but whatever message he was trying to convey didn’t quite make itself known and Dean looked at him, confused. He sighed again, “I’m trying to take you out, see if you can’t hook up with someone.”

Dean rolled his eyes, turning back to run the cloth in his hand over the machine one more time. “Sam-” he started, an edge of warning creeping into his tone.

“Oh come on, Dean. When was the last time you met someone? There hasn’t been anyone in your life since Lisa-”

Deliberately, Dean dropped to one knee and buried himself in checking the refrigerator under the counter, so that Sam couldn’t see his expression. There had been someone since Lisa, two someones in fact, but Sam didn’t know about them. Dean opened his mouth to protest, but even out of sight Sam knew it was coming.

“One night stands don’t count, Dean.”

Dean’s mouth snapped shut, he’d told Sam about those. Well...most of them. The ones that had involved women.

It wasn’t as though Dean was afraid to come out to his brother, well, actually, yes, alright, he _was_ afraid to come out to his brother. The whole ‘journey of self-discovery’ that had started with him realising he spent a little too long watching Doctor Sexy for non-medical reasons and ended with him comfortable enough to have a relationship with a man (but not tell his brother) hadn’t exactly been a fun roller coaster of love and acceptance. His old man had drummed into them both how wrong that kind of thing was and Lisa hadn’t exactly helped when she’d kicked Dean out of their white picket fence because he’d come out to her. She was fine with it, no really, totally fine but she couldn’t quite reconcile that him also finding men attractive didn’t change his feelings for her. It must, she’d insisted and Dean had been too new to it to argue. Not that he’d particularly wanted to. He’d left and figured that he’d tell Sam one day...probably when it became necessary. If things had worked out between him and Benny or him and Aaron maybe he would have but it hadn’t so he hadn’t.

“Dean?” Sam prompted, aware that he’d lost his brother’s attention.

While he was down there, Dean did actually check that they had enough milk before he stood up again. “Look, Sam. I appreciate it, I do. I’m really happy that you and Eileen are happy, but you don’t have to keep trying to find domestic bliss for me, okay?” He spread his arms, gesturing to the coffee shop, “I got my shop, I bake my pies, I like my apartment. I’m okay, really.”

Sam looked a little guilty and dropped his eyes to his coffee, “I know, I just...I worry about you.”

For a moment, Dean thought about teasing him but he looked so sincere it would just be mean. “Yeah...I know.”

The ringing of the small bell above the door had never been so welcome and jolted the two of them out of the conversation which was quickly becoming maudlin. The woman who entered ordered the last slice of cherry pie and a coffee to go and Dean didn’t give it a second thought, though making the coffee allowed him to look out of the window again and he saw that tall and tan trench coat was still standing there, staring at the building across the road.

“Hey, I better head off,” Sam said as the woman thanked Dean and dropped some coins into the tip jar. “But, you wanna come over next week? We’ll get pizza and watch a movie? Eileen’s got some...thing… she had to do,” Sam flushed when Dean arched his brow, “I wasn’t paying attention,” he admitted, sheepishly.

Dean laughed but didn’t need to think about it for long. “Sure, that sounds great. I’ll bring beer.”

Sam raised his hand in the standard gesture of ‘ _See you later/I’ll be in touch/Bye_ ’ and had his other hand on the door to leave when Dean called out, “Hey!” loud enough that what few patrons sat around the coffee shop looked up in surprise. Dean ignored them, focusing his attention entirely on his brother, “I mean it, yeah? Thanks.”

Sam positively beamed back and Dean waved him off. It was worth the few odd looks, there was no point being a dick about it, Sam really was just trying to help, it wasn’t his fault Dean just wasn’t interested in only being set up with friends of Eileen who would invariably be female. And hey, they might be great, but Sam was looking for a nice woman for Dean to settle down with and would overlook the nice men he knew.

The bell above the door rang out, even though Sam had only just closed the door behind him.

“Hi, boss!” Charlie called, cheerily, passing the counter to hang her bag out back before the afternoon rush set in. Dean raised a hand and turned to count how many pies they had left. No point dwelling on stuff now, it’d all keep regardless.

The afternoon rush died off but tall, dark and trench-coat was still there. Exactly there, Dean noticed, he didn’t seem to have moved even an inch, standing ramrod straight, still looking off into the middle distance. Dean unloaded the dishwasher, stacking cups on the shelf beside the coffee machine, but his eyes kept drifting back to the man. Curiosity finally, finally got the better of him and with a quick signal to Charlie, he stepped out into the street.

The man’s eyes were firmly fixed on the building opposite, unflinching even when Dean stepped beside him.

“Hey?” Dean called but the man didn’t react. “Hey, you okay there buddy?” He tapped his arm, gently, but it was enough to get the man’s attention. He turned to look at Dean and Dean felt his breath catch in his throat.

_Blue._

The man’s eyes were blue. And what a blue. Dean felt like he could drown in them from just that first glance. He was _gorgeous_. Gorgeous and waiting for Dean to explain himself.

Oh. Right.

“You alright? Can’t help but notice you’ve been standing out here a while now,” Dean offered, once he’d found his voice.

The man cocked his head in a motion that Dean would never admit to having found adorable. He glanced between Dean and the building opposite before he said, “I was waiting for my brothers. We were supposed to meet here.” His voice was ten degrees lower than Dean had expected, rough, as though he hadn’t had a reason to use it for some time. He looked back across the road and Dean could have sworn he looked sad for it. “They are late,” he said, softly.

Dean followed his gaze, even though he had no clue what the guy’s brothers looked like so it wasn’t like he could have spotted them. “You uh...you wanna wait for them inside? I’ll fix you up with some coffee?” Dean offered, wondering how the guy hadn’t needed to sit down yet.

The man regarded him, curiously, “Why would I want coffee?”

Despite himself, Dean laughed, and steered the man into the shop, “Or tea, milk, water, whatever you want to drink.” He settled the guy at a table at the window where he could still look out at the bank opposite. “What can I get you?” he asked, but the guy only looked up at him curiously. That head tilt again, Dean could feel himself blushing a little. The guy was cute, what could he say?

“I don’t require anything.”

Dean huffed through his nose, “Yeah, I know, but it’s on the house, okay?”

The man looked even more confused if such a thing were possible.

“I’m just gonna get you a coffee,” Dean said before he could confuse matters further. “What’s your name?” he asked. He needed it for the coffee, definitely to write on the coffee. Even though he was coming straight back with it.

The man regarded him for a moment. “Castiel,” he said eventually.

Dean grinned at him. “Alright, Cas. M’name’s Dean. Lemme get you some coffee.”

* * *

The man, _Dean_ , he had said his name was returned with a cup of what was presumably, coffee. He put it on the table, before retreating behind the counter again. It seemed he worked here. Castiel considered the cup; a ceramic blend filled with something steaming. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was to do with it, but the people around him seemed to be ingesting whatever was in their cups so he lifted the cup to his lips and swallowed the mass inside. There was too much of it to take in one mouthful and he spluttered when the heat caught him by surprise, but still, he managed it, downing the contents, only dribbling a small amount onto the lapel of his coat.

Nobody around him even looked up.

Licking his lips, Castiel pondered the flavour. It was...nice? Yes, it was nice. He liked it. He did not require it, but he liked it. The liquid was hot and bitter but tempered by the addition of cream. That was all the thought Castiel allowed it before he returned his attention to the space in front of the shop in which he now sat. The space where millenia ago he and his brothers had promised to meet.

“Wow, you didn’t waste any time,” the man, Dean, laughed as he passed by Castiel’s table. He had a tray balanced on one arm and was gathering empty cups from vacated tables, but he’d apparently glanced in Castiel’s direction as he passed. “Can I get you anything else?” he offered and Castiel could feel the kindness in him.

“No, thank you,” he replied, gruffly, he was not used to speech. In fact, he hadn’t spoken a word since his meeting with his brothers just beyond where he was sitting.

Dean took the empty cup away, balancing it inside another already on his tray, but he did not move away. Not immediately, at least. “So, you said you were meeting your brothers, they running late?”

Castiel frowned, he could not tell the time, not precisely, but he knew it was around now they should be meeting. He sniffed the air, surreptitiously, yes...it was about right. About five thousand years had passed since Castiel had spread his wings around a planet in its infancy and turned his gaze outwards, protecting it from anything that threatened it. His watch had ended and he had returned, here, to this place, where the others were supposed to meet him and return him to Heaven. His brothers were not here yet, but, he sniffed the air again, they would surely not be long.

“They’ll be here,” he said, with some certainty. It was impossible for an angel to break their word, after all.

“You sure this is the place?” Dean asked. Were all humans this curious?

Castiel looked outside again and nodded, “Yes. It has changed a great deal since we were last here, but this is the place.”

Dean accepted this with a nod of his own, “Yeah, they only put that bank up a year ago. Used to be gardens before that, real pretty ones. Shame they built that monstrosity over it.”

Castiel could remember this area’s naturally fertile soil, the greenery already bursting across the surface when he had last stepped on solid ground. The presence of ‘that monstrosity’ as Dean had put it had momentarily thrown Castiel, but only briefly. The surroundings might have changed, but the earth had not moved all that much. The horizon was still the same, the stars still placed correctly above them, even if they could not be seen for the brightness of the sun that day.

“You let me know if there’s anything else you need,” Dean said, kindly, moving away from the table. Castiel simply frowned in return; he was not sure what it was that he might require, but the offer seemed sincere enough. Perhaps he was just being friendly.

Turning his attention back toward the world outside, Castiel realised that he was impatient for his brothers to arrive. Perhaps they had mistaken the hour, after all when one deals in timespans of millennia the individual minutes tended to get lost. He had not appreciated how lonely his service would be, looking out among the stars. As beautiful as they were, they were nothing compared to the quiet softness of Heaven and the company of his brothers. He had not thought angels could get lonely, but after a few thousand years with only the comets for conversation, and poor conversation at that, Castiel had found himself longing for even Gabriel’s irritating affections.

He was used to the passing of time. It was, in fact, the only thing Castiel had witnessed consistently during his service, but still, the day seemed to pass far too quickly, with greater haste than any of the previous days for sure. The sun darkened in the sky, giving way to night, not that such a thing could be witnessed when the humans had strung up light everywhere. The artificial glow grew brighter as the daylight diminished and the city seemed to come alive, with more people passing by than had done previously.

Those around Castiel filtered in and filtered out, acquiring their ‘coffee’ and leaving again. More than once a woman with red hair asked him if he was alright, but he assured her he was. It was only when Dean approached him again that he realised he was the only one left inside. The other humans had all left.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean sighed, scrubbing his face in a gesture entirely borne from nervousness, “Listen, I’m really sorry, but I gotta close up.”

Castiel stared at him uncomprehending before Dean gestured to the walls around them. “Close up? Like, it’s closing time and we got homes to get to?” He laughed, but it seemed forced, “I hate to have to kick you out, buddy.”

Finally, Castiel understood. Humans required rest periods. This establishment obviously had finite opening hours. It meant little to Castiel, he had no preference as to where he waited, although sitting inside Dean’s shop had been a little more comfortable than standing on the sidewalk.

“Of course, Dean, forgive me,” Castiel said, but Dean was already waving away his apology.

“No, no, I’m -” it looked like he couldn’t find the words for what he wanted to say and Castiel cast around in his memory, trying to remember what interaction looked like.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” he settled on, before he stepped back out into the street and resumed his watch.

Some time later, Dean and the red-haired girl stepped out after him while Dean locked the door to the shop in several places. “Night, Charlie,” he called as the girl headed in the opposite direction. Dean himself turned and almost walked into Castiel before he caught himself.

“ _Jesus, Cas!_ ” he cried, jumping back as though shocked to find him there.

Castiel frowned. “No, not him.”

“The hell are you doing?”

“I’m...waiting for my brothers,” Castiel said, slowly. Nothing had changed.

“Oh,” Dean looked at him curiously, “Still?”

Castiel cocked his head, where else would he go? “They will be here.”

“I’m sure,” Dean said, turning to a door between the coffee shop and whatever occupied the building beside it. He slipped the key into the door, looking back at Castiel as though he were pained somehow. “Well...I hope they show up. See you around, Cas,” he stepped through the door with a small wave, closing it behind him. There must have been a staircase beyond the door, for Castiel could hear his footsteps retreating beyond it.

He didn’t give Dean another thought, looking back over to the 'bank' that had once been pure existence and waiting once more, for his brothers.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean’s alarm went off at 5:45 promptly though he allowed himself to doze for another fifteen minutes before he slipped from the covers. It wasn’t cold but it was a damn sight less comfortable than his glorious king-size bed complete with memory foam.

He staggered to the kitchen, setting the first coffee of the day to brew. Even though he worked around coffee all day, that first hit of its rich scent never failed to rouse him. He felt a little more human after the first cup and was halfway to being presentable after his second. He never had regretted living in the apartment above his own shop, especially when it meant getting up at the crack of dawn because he insisted on baking his own pies rather than ordering in. But by far his favourite part of it all was that he could just roll out the door and into the shop with his second cup of coffee still in hand. He didn’t even need to get properly dressed. Old jeans and a faded t-shirt would do for early morning baking. He could change into something else while the first batch baked.

Dean jogged down the stairs towards his front door, kicking it shut behind him as he left, turning towards the door to the coffee shop. He almost fell over himself when, for the second time in as many days, he almost walked straight into a figure already standing there.

“Cas?!” he breathed, managing to right himself before he spilled his coffee. Cas turned to him, still wearing the trench-coat and suit combo he’d been wearing the day before. “The hell are you doing here?”

Cas looked at him, curiously, “I’m waiting-”

“For your brothers, yeah, I got it,” Dean finished for him, “You’re out early though.”

“Is it early? I hadn’t noticed,” Cas said, looking up at the sky which had lightened considerably since Dean’s alarm had gone off.

“Right, well...” Dean glanced over his shoulder at the shop. He wouldn’t be opening it for a few hours yet. “I’m just...gonna get the day started.”

“Of course, Dean,” and the guy went back to just standing there as though it were a totally normal thing to be doing.

Even though he’d said he was going in, it took a few moments for Dean to actually move. But Cas didn’t turn to him again, so eventually, he unlocked the door and slipped the lock on, heading out to the back room to start baking. He threw on the lights, jabbed the play button on the old tape deck in the corner of the room, and soon enough was lost in loud music and kneading pastry dough.

Cas was still outside an hour and a half later when Dean had prepared everything he’d need for the day and probably the next. The first batch was baking so he nipped back upstairs to change into something a little more work suitable and a little less flour dusted. Cas was still there when he came back in, and when he opened the front door, switching the ‘closed’ sign to ‘open’ ready for the first line of customers already lining up for their morning pick me up.

Cas was still there when the morning rush died down.

Dean went to the door, “Hey, Cas!” he called and the guy turned as though surprised he’d been called. “You gonna stand there all day? Get in here.”

He pointed Cas to the table he’d occupied the day before, but he didn’t have much time to do more than bringing him a coffee before he launched into cleaning the place up. The morning rush lasted no more than thirty minutes yet the place looked as though a stampeding hurricane had torn through it, which was something impressive given that at that time of the morning, most people wanted their coffee to go. Still, it wasn’t going to clean itself.

The place saw steady service for a while, but it didn’t really pick up again and wouldn’t until lunch time; by then Dean would have Charlie to help him. Even so, the steady stream of customers meant that Dean didn’t get to go and chat with Cas. Not that he’d intended to or anything, it’s just that the guy was the only other fixture in the shop at the moment. He’d accepted the coffee that Dean had brought him, but he had not asked for anything else, even though Dean knew he hadn’t eaten anything. As ever his eyes were looking out beyond the window.

When Dean had a moment he cut Cas one of the fresher slices of pie, still warm from the oven. He wasn’t sure what flavours the guy would like and if he asked he got the impression Cas wouldn’t have a clue as to his own preferences. The guy seemed to have no thought beyond waiting for his brothers. So he settled for traditional apple. That would surely be a winner.

He took the plate over with a cup of tea this time, something with a little less punch than the coffee he’d given that morning. “Here you go, Cas,” he smiled, sliding the tray onto the table.

“What’s this?” Cas asked, curiously, looking at the pie as though he’d never seen such a thing before. He was probably just surprised.

Dean cleared his throat, unsure why he felt a little awkward; he was doing the guy a favour after all, what did he have to feel awkward of? “Well, I know you didn’t have breakfast, now that’s not the best thing I can offer but it is fresh. It’s just apple pie.”

Dean almost laughed at the way Cas regarded it, as though he were waiting for it to do something. “I don’t require anything, Dean,” he said, softly. He glanced around at what few other customers sat about the place, “And...I don’t have any money to exchange for this.”

Somehow Dean had already figured that much out. “It’s alright, Cas, I’m just worried about you,” slipped out before he could stop it. He could feel his cheeks turning red before Cas even looked up at him. When Cas did look up at him he was practically burning up on the spot, “I mean, just...just eat your pie, Cas, don’t worry about money or anything, just…eat your pie.”

Mercifully, Cas didn’t laugh. He looked like he might like to, but he didn’t. Instead, hesitatingly, he picked up the fork, grasping it in much the same way a toddler might, before he cut a small piece of the pie and lifted it to his lips. Dean hadn’t meant to stick around, especially not to...watch him eat? But he hadn’t expected Cas to look so nervous. It was only pie, granted Dean knew he made damn good pies, but there really was no need for Cas to be looking at it so suspiciously, closing his lips around it tentatively. He swallowed, awkwardly, before turning to Dean with wide eyes.

“Dean,” he breathed, as though something miraculous had just happened, “That is delicious.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh at the eagerness with which Cas devoured the next mouthful. “Glad you like it, enjoy,” he grinned, tapping Cas on the shoulder just as Charlie breezed through the front door. Dean’s hand fell away from Cas instantly but Charlie had already clocked it, looking between them with a knowing smile.

“You’re early,” Dean said, following her to the counter.

“Eh...I wasn’t doing anything anyway, I thought I’d give you a hand with the bakes for the weekend,” her eyes flitted to the back of Cas’ head, “or, you know...whatever you wanna do.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Go put your stuff away, we’ll start with the cherry.”

Charlie looked like she was about to move, but she paused for a moment to whisper dramatically, “He’s cute, though, right?”

“Why, you interested?” Dean shot back with a smile. No matter how many times he made that joke she always pulled the same face and she headed out the back, muttering under her breath about the grossness of men.

Dean took a moment to steady himself against the counter, his heart racing even though Charlie had only been teasing. She knew of course, he’d never told her just as he’d never told anyone but she knew. She’d been there when Benny had shown up to sweep Dean off his feet for a classic car convention, she’d seen Aaron coming in and out that time Dean had been sick for a whole weekend.

Charlie knew. But for as long as Dean hadn’t explicitly told her, he could pretend that she didn’t. He glanced over at Cas and tried to breathe normally. She was right though; he  _ was _ cute.

“Hey boss, I’ll make a start on the fillings, should leave you with just the crusts and the baking,” Charlie called, having apparently not given the cute guy in the trench coat a second thought. Why would she? She’d already put her mind onto the task at hand, she wasn’t about to overthink Dean’s hand on the guy’s shoulder, certainly not to the extent Dean was anyway.

It had just been a pat anyway. A pat on the guy’s arm because he’d made him laugh, that’s all. There was nothing more to it. Cas was cute sure, but that was all. Did Charlie think there was more to it? Did Cas? Probably not. The guy was pretty oblivious. Cute but oblivious.

The small chime of the bell rang out as a group of teenagers filed in. Dean had never been so grateful to have a customer to serve.

* * *

“Hey, Cas, why don’t you just like...call your brothers?” Dean asked, as another day drew to a close. He had been in the back rooms for much of the afternoon baking, or at least that’s what the red-haired woman, Charlie, had said as she cleared Castiel’s table, even though he hadn’t asked.

For a moment, Castiel looked at Dean as he brushed his hands over the apron around his waist, leaving behind the imprint of fingerprints smeared through flour. Dean caught sight of something left on his finger, probably the remains of one of the many fillings Castiel had been able to discern on the air as Dean baked. Dean licked it off as he joined the table at which he’d allowed Castiel to sit.

“Cas?” he prompted and Castiel realised there’d been a question.

“Oh. I don’t think there’s any need for that, they should be along, shortly.”

Dean arched an eyebrow, “Dude, it’s been two days.”

Was that a lot in human terms? It was nothing at all to an angel, though Castiel would be lying if he said he had not noticed the passage of the days. His brothers knew the very moment that Castiel’s watch would end, they should have been there to meet him. Dean should never have noticed him. Castiel should never have been there long enough for Dean to have noticed him.

“They’ll be here.”

“You could just shoot them a text or something?” Dean asked, but Castiel looked at him uncomprehending. Why would he form texts and even if he were to commit his words to paper how would he propel them heavenward? “Or...” Dean added, when Castiel failed to answer, “If you remember one of their numbers you could borrow my phone? I figured you don’t have one.”

“You figured correctly,” Castiel mumbled, vaguely wondering what a phone was. “But my brothers do not have numbers.”

“Of course they don’t,” Dean sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as though pained by the admission.

“I can wait outside,” Castiel offered, “I don’t mean to inconvenience you.”

Instantly, Dean threw his hands up, “No, no, Cas, you got it all wrong, I don’t mean- I didn’t-” he paused and took a breath, “Cas, you stay in here for as long as you like, I’m not gonna let you stand in the street all day. I just mean it sucks that they haven’t met you yet and you’re just waiting for them.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, softly, suddenly finding the urge to look at his hands, twisting in his lap. The human was worried for him. It was a strange revelation, the human had no need to be concerned for him. “I hadn’t expected them to take this long,” he admitted, his mouth falling shut almost as soon as the words had left him. Why had he said that? When had he allowed himself to become so familiar with one who was not his brother? But then, Dean seemed to engender familiarity with his open looks, obvious concern, and pies that had tasted better than ambrosia.

“You know, you could always just head home, they could catch up with you there? I mean, they’ve kept you waiting long enough.”

Castiel shook his head, “I can’t go home without them. That’s why we’re meeting, they were supposed to take me home.” He sounded agitated, was he agitated? It was almost a surprise to realise that yes, he was.

They were supposed to be here.

Time was incidental to beings such as they, days passed as minutes, but then this was not just a matter of days. Castiel had been alone for millennia.

Where were they?

His emotions must have shown on his face, if such a thing were possible, for Dean had reached over and touched his arm. His hand was warm through the fabric of the trench coat that had materialised upon him when he had taken human form, but even Castiel could tell that the gesture was meant to be comforting.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that; a human was comforting him. The idea seemed ludicrous, ridiculous even but he couldn’t quite bring himself to laugh.

“They’ll be here,” Castiel said, quietly, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Which was surely even more ridiculous than his previous train of thought. Why would he need to convince himself? They  _ would _ be here.

Again, Dean patted his shoulder as he rose. He had utilised that same motion that morning when he’d brought the pie. Castiel hadn’t known what it had meant then, but it was comforting nonetheless. “Well, Cas, I’m gonna start closing up, but you stick around here ‘til I lock up, okay? Maybe...maybe they’ll be along,” Dean said, but it didn’t sound like he was confident.

He looked sad when the time came to actually leave the shop. Behind Dean, Charlie kept looking between them with earnest glances, as though she wanted to ask Dean something but inevitably failed to, bidding Dean a good night with far less enthusiasm than she had the day before. Once again, Dean stepped up to his front door, the key already in his hand when he looked back at Castiel.

“You’re...you’re still gonna stick around?”

Castiel gave a small shrug, an entirely human gesture.

“Okay, well, don’t stay out too late,” Dean said, almost firmly, “This place can get a little rowdy on a Friday night.”

Castiel wasn’t sure entirely what he meant but he raised his hand anyway and muttered, “Goodnight, Dean,” before he turned back to resume his watch.


	3. Chapter 3

It was somewhat ironic that after brushing Sam off earlier in the week, Dean found himself actually wanting a change of scene. Normally he’d head to the Roadhouse, but there was a chance Sam would be there and then he’d have to admit he’d changed his mind and then Sam would inevitably try to set him up like he’d promised. He could always just grab a burger from Benny’s diner rather than cook his own dinner. That might be enough company for the night. He and Benny might not date but they were still friends and Benny’s burgers were the best in town. The best after Dean’s own at least.

He had a brief shower but thorough enough to wash the inevitable smell of old coffee from him, though nothing could ever be done about the lingering vanilla and pie crusts. At this point, Dean figured it was part of his DNA. Besides, there were worse things to smell like. Pulling out clean jeans and a handful of fresh shirts from the drawers, he glanced beyond the window before decided on a flannel to pull over it all – it looked like it might rain later.

Dean paused in the hallway to give himself a once over in the mirror. With his hair damp from the shower there was nothing he could do to it, though he ran a hand through it anyway. He grabbed his car keys and although he hadn’t given it any thought, he wasn’t surprised to find Cas still outside.

“Still here, Cas?” Cas gave a small shrug but didn’t say anything. “I’m just heading out for a bite to eat...” he started, but he trailed off when he realised that he didn’t need to explain himself. “You uh...want...anything?” he offered before he could really think about it. Cas cocked his head in the way that Dean had become strangely accustomed to.

“No, I’m alright, thank you, Dean.”

“Alright...well...” Dean hesitated, it didn’t feel right leaving the guy on his own in the street, “...don’t stick around much longer, it looks like it’s gonna rain.” Cas nodded, but Dean didn’t seem convinced. “Bye, Cas.”

A few minutes later he drove by Cas who didn’t notice him pass. He wouldn’t be there when Dean got back but given how early he’d been there that morning it likely wouldn’t be too long before he saw him again. The guy’s brothers were dicks though. Why Cas didn’t just give up on them he couldn’t say. If Sam had left him hanging like that he’d be buying the drinks for the rest of the year.

As ever there was a bone-crushing hug waiting for Dean the moment he stepped into Benny’s diner. A bone-crushing hug, a free beer set out at the counter and a burger on the grill before the door had closed behind him.

“What’s new, brother?” Benny called after settling himself behind the grill.

“Not much. Same old really. Coffee, baking and Sam’s still ragging on me to settle down and all that-”

Benny smirked, “Take it you haven’t told him?”

Dean’s fingers tensed around the bottle. “No. I haven’t told him.”

“You should,” came the patient reply, “He’s not gonna love you any less.”

“Shut up,” Dean scoffed, wondering how they could have veered into such emotional territory already, “Anyway, how’s married bliss treating you?”

And Benny was off, as Dean would be, accepting the change of subject and talking about how much more radiant Andrea became with every passing day.

It was an excellent way to pass an evening. Good food and a catch up with a good friend. Dean stayed for an extra slice of pie when the rain started. Everyone had said he’d get bored of pie when he baked it almost every day but he’d sure proved them wrong.

“So, what’s their name?” Benny asked, taking advantage of a momentary lack of orders to join Dean at the counter. Dean raised an eyebrow, his mouth full of half-chewed pie, which normally wouldn’t have stopped him saying anything but he genuinely didn’t know what Benny was referring to. “The real reason you don’t want Sam settin’ you up? The reason you’ve been ignoring blondie down there even though she’s been giving you eyes since you got here.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder and Dean saw that yeah, there was a blonde woman sitting on the opposite end of the counter, looking at him in a way that a lot of women did.

Dean swallowed the pie, “What? There isn’t anyone.”

Benny folded his arms, smirking, “Uh huh.”

“No really, I’m not seeing anyone,” his eyes wandered to the blonde again. She was gorgeous, but Dean wasn’t interested. He gave a shrug, “Not feeling it right now, I guess.”

Benny placed the back of his hand to Dean’s forehead, mock taking his temperature, “You ill, Cher?”

With a snort, Dean pulled his head back; he’d finished the pie anyway. “I’m fine, Benny, really. Thanks for dinner.”

“Alright,” Benny said, holding his hands up, defensively, “You come over some time, how long has it been since we just watched a movie?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean grinned, leaving a handful of bills on the counter. Benny frowned at them, but Dean had slipped out before he could try and force them back. The rain had stopped, thankfully, a brief shower that had left puddles everywhere but cleared up quickly enough. The air felt cleaner for it and Dean breathed it in deeply, heading for his car and glad for the extra layers he’d worn.

He felt better for being outside. Not that he’d felt particularly rubbish, but he’d just wanted to get out of the apartment. Living above his own shop was handy, but he was usually clambering for a change of scene after a week of only moving between them. And he liked to stretch his legs in his Baby. As though to highlight the point he put his foot flat on the accelerator, opening her up on one of the quieter roads, enjoying the sensation of just going fast. It meant he got home in far less time than it had taken him to get to Benny’s in the first place, but it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Dean parked Baby, as ever, in the parking garage shared by the residents and shop owners seeing as he wasn’t ever about to leave Baby unattended on one of the main streets overnight. The short walk around the corner back to his place was a small price to pay for her safety.

His heart sank as he turned the corner and saw that Cas was still waiting on the sidewalk. People were making their way around him, hardly sparing him a second glance. Not that Cas seemed to notice, his eyes fixed, as ever, on the bank opposite. With a frown, Dean stopped in his tracks, double-checking the time on his phone. He hadn’t been imagining things, it was almost eleven at night. At this rate, Dean was gonna have to physically drag the guy off the street; there was no way he could stand there all night.

“Cas?” he sighed as he drew near. He didn’t intend to sound so weary but the guy was still there? That wasn’t right.

“Oh, hello, Dean,” Cas said, turning to him, as though surprised to see him there.

Dean looked him up and down, the guy was soaked. The hair that normally stuck up in all directions lay flat against his skin, still trailing rivulets of rainwater over Cas’ skin. The tan trench coat looked much darker having gotten wet, but Cas hadn’t seemed to notice, even that.

“Okay, Cas, don’t you think this is getting a bit much? How long are you going to wait out here?”

Cas gave a small shrug but didn’t say anything.

“Cas...” Dean said, haltingly, gears turning in his head, “Cas, you have got somewhere to go, right?” Cas didn’t answer, he didn’t even move but Dean could tell that this was deliberate, he was deliberately ignoring the question. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dean took a breath, “You didn’t get here early, did you? You stayed out all night.”

It wasn’t a question anymore.

Dean made the decision on the spot, not that he really considered it a decision to be made. “Alright, come on, you’re coming in with me,” he snapped, moving to unlock the door to his apartment. He could feel his frustration coming off him in waves, but seriously? The guy was just going to wait out there all night, for the second night in a row? In the rain? Not that it was raining right now but he clearly hadn’t given up when it  _ had _ rained.

He glanced over his shoulder, but Cas hadn’t moved, regarding him as curiously as he ever did.

“Come on, Cas. We’ll dry your coat out and you can have the sofa.”

Cas didn’t seem to understand what it was Dean was offering, frowning he looked down at himself, “Dean, there is no need to open your home to me, I don’t require rest.”

“Look, buddy, you’re soaked to the skin and you’ve been standing out here for the best part of two days. I’m not so much of a dick that I’m gonna leave you there, okay? At least let’s get you dried off before you catch something.”

At last, Cas relented, passing Dean as he muttered under his breath something that sounded a lot like, “...not possible for me to catch something-” but Dean figured he was just being pissy, after all Dean had practically forced him up the stairs into the apartment.

“Alright, put your shoes down here, next to the heater,” Dean directed, slipping his own jacket off and kicking his shoes onto the rack Sam had gotten him in an attempt to civilise him. Cas slipped his shoes off uncertainly before curling his fingers around his collar in what looked like a motion that he thought would remove it.

“Lemme help you with that,” Dean offered, as Cas struggled with the apparent intricacies of a trench-coat. He was probably just cold, his fingers seemed to have a slight tremor in them. Under the coat, Cas wore a navy suit and a white shirt that, despite the several layers that covered it, had not escaped the rain. Dean surely had a few t-shirts Cas could borrow. Shaking out the trench-coat, Dean draped it over the heater to dry out before he followed where Cas had gone, into the lounge. Unsurprisingly, Cas was standing in the middle of the floor between the sofa and the mounted television, looking around as though he didn’t know where to put himself.

“You wanna take a shower?” Dean offered, “That’ll warm you up, I’ll go start it running, see if I can’t find you something a little less wet to wear.”

“Why are you doing this?” Cas asked, suddenly, as though the thought had just struck him. He was looking at Dean curiously and it must have been a trick of the light that made his eyes look as blue as they seemed. Under his gaze, Dean felt naked, as though he were looking through him into his very soul. But, that was ridiculous so instead, he cleared his throat and shrugged.

“Wasn’t about to leave you outside all night, lemme go start that shower,” he muttered, before he hurried away, quickly, more so to get away from the earnestness of Cas’ eyes than to actually find some spare clothes.

* * *

Dean’s bathroom was warm and filled with the steam from the steady heat of the streaming water. Castiel had stripped himself of his clothes that had gotten damp in the rain. He wasn’t sure why it mattered, but Dean had been insistent and he had a kind soul. He’d already laid out a change of clothes, showing Castiel where he could hang the suit for it to dry out.

Holding his hand out, Castiel allowed the water to flow over it; it was far more pleasing than the cold drizzle of outside. This was warm, a steady pressure and felt delightful just against his hand, it was no trouble at all to step into the tub and allow the water to cascade over his whole body. A sigh escaped him at the sensation of the water kneading the muscles in his shoulders, so much so that he rolled his neck under the stream before he discovered he preferred it flowing straight onto his back. He had given no consideration at all to the maintenance of this form, after all it was a temporary assumption. Something that would allow him to walk on the earth; if he’d done so in his true form he would have destroyed the minds of any passing mortals.

There were several bottles of various liquids lined up in a basket beside the bath. Dean had told him to help himself, but he wasn’t entirely sure what they all were. He opened the one closest to him and inhaled the scent of it, whatever it was it smelled delicious but it didn’t taste nearly as nice as the pie Dean had given him earlier. Instead, he settled for rubbing it into a lather across his bare skin. He assumed that’s what he was supposed to do with it, he had caught the scent of vanilla when Dean had left the apartment before the rain.

When he was done, there were several towels to dry himself on and clothes to change into, seeing as his suit was still damp. He wasn’t what AC/DC was, but it was clearly one of Dean’s favoured shirts seeing as Dean kept looking over at him, his eyes lingering on Castiel’s new clothing. There was a cup of something waiting for Castiel, but it didn’t look like coffee.

“Cocoa,” Dean said, as though that explained anything, but he gestured for Castiel to sit on the sofa anyway. Castiel sat, taking the cocoa with him, it smelled nicer than the vanilla liquid in the bathroom and tasted better too. “So, Cas,” Dean started, as soon as Castiel was sitting, “how long are you planning on waiting for your dickhead brothers to pick you up?”

Castiel raised an eyebrow, he wasn’t entirely sure how comparing the Host to human genitalia was appropriate but then, he wasn’t sure about many things on this world. The last he had heard there were plans for two humans to start life in a garden, somehow this had led to the metropolis around them.

“Were you going to wait for them all night, again?” Dean asked.

The cup was warm in Castiel’s hand, it was strangely comforting. “They’ll be along.”

“Right,” Dean sighed, “Okay, where’s home, Cas? I can give you a lift?”

Castiel arched an eyebrow. Not even Dean was that remarkable. “I don’t think you’d be able to help.” Dean looked a little put out and it pricked something within Castiel, he was only trying to help after all. “Thank you, Dean. But as impressive as your car is, it wouldn’t be able to reach Heaven. Not along a traditional route at least.”

Dean was looking at him with wide eyes, so his attempt at a joke had obviously not gone over well. “Heaven?” he asked, slowly, “Right...”

Castiel took another sip of the cocoa as the silence around them seemed to become less comfortable. Dean leaned his face against a hand, massaging his temples, “So, lemme guess, you’re Jesus?”

“Jesus?” Castiel looked over at him, puzzled, “Of course not. Forgive me, I thought you’d noticed that I was an angel.”

“An angel,” Dean sighed, “Yeah, obviously, an angel.” He sounded pained, somehow. Wearied. “Sorry, I didn’t see your wings or harp.”

“Actually, I always preferred to call it a lyre and I left it in Heaven when I took up my duties. My wings aren’t visible in this form, though,” Castiel glanced over his own shoulder, as though he had been manifesting them all this time without his notice.

“My bad,” Dean groaned, “Look, that’s great and all but I was-”

His words washed over Dean as Castiel considered his form. He had taken human form in order to appear on earth with greater ease, but he was still an angel. He should be able to summon his wings in some measure. He flexed his shoulders, even though it was not a physical reaction to what he was trying to do, yet it seemed to work. He felt his wings unfurl behind him, across Dean’s couch, filling the lounge. He could not see them, only the shadow of them was visible, stretching across the walls, curling in on themselves when they met obstruction. But they were most certainly there and they were certainly his wings; the sight of them was strangely reassuring.

When he looked back at Dean, he found that Dean had thrown himself clear of the chair he’d been sitting on and was pressed against the opposite wall, his eyes tracking the movement of Castiel’s wings with something that could only be fear. He was muttering under his breath, a string of human expletives before he found Castiel’s eyes again which stopped him suddenly. He held his hands up, defensively, as though he feared that Castiel would hurt him.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

_“What the hell are you?”_ Dean practically shouted. Even though he was capable of smiting Dean with a thought, Castiel still flinched from the tone. Why was he angry?

“I’m an angel,” Castiel replied, “I thought you knew.”

“An angel. Right.” Dean tried to catch his breath, “That’s...that’s a thing that’s real.”

“Of course angels are real.”

It took a moment before Dean seemed calm enough to breathe again. Eventually, he stumbled towards his chair and collapsed into it, long after Castiel had caused his wings to tuck themselves into whatever realm it was they existed in this form. It was longer still before Dean actually spoke again.

“Right, so...so you’re an angel. An actual angel with a halo and a harp-”

“Lyre,” Castiel corrected, patiently, “We don’t have halos.”

“Lyre, whatever, and what...you’re waiting for some other angels to show up to take you to Heaven?”

The temperature of the cocoa had dropped considerably, it seemed less comforting now yet Castiel found himself staring at it, as though he might discern some meaning in their milky depths. “They were supposed to have met me already.”

He could feel Dean’s eyes on him, but he didn’t want to look up. “I mean…” Dean’s voice sounded far away, distant and he cleared his throat again, trying to level his breathing. “I mean, what’s two days to an angel, right?”

Castiel smiled at him weakly, he really did have a kind soul.

“So, you really have no way to call them? I mean, can’t you pray or something?”

He could, Castiel knew he could and he also knew why he hadn’t. His grip around the cup tightened. “I could but...” he sighed, embarrassed if an angel could feel such a thing, “As you say, two days is nothing to an angel.”

“Alright...if you’re sure,” Dean shrugged, having acclimatised himself rather quickly to the concept of angels and Heaven, “You’re not really going to just wait for them out in the street though?”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

Dean arched an eyebrow, unconvinced, “Do angels not get cold? Or do you not really feel anything? I mean, you look pretty comfortable now...” he trailed off and gave a small huff of a laugh, “What the hell am I even saying? How are we even having this conversation? Am I drunk? I’m drunk aren’t I? I passed out at Benny’s and this is some kind of freaky beer dream.”

“Your blood alcohol level is below .01 percent. You’re not drunk, Dean,” Castiel assured him, “But you are very kind. And I am far more comfortable here. I can still feel things the way I imagine you can, it just...doesn’t have any particularly lasting effects on my form. I do appreciate your kindness in inviting me in, I was quite cold after the rain.”

At that at least, Dean softened a little and he smiled at Castiel the way he had in the coffee shop before he’d known about the existence of angels. “Well, I meant what I said, you can sleep here tonight,” he gestured to a pile of blankets he had already gathered beside the couch. “If you don’t sleep, there’s...well...there’s the TV I guess...”

“You are very kind,” Castiel said, warmly, smiling at the cocoa which had gone cold by now and didn’t taste very nice for it, but Castiel drank it anyway, the way he had that first cup of coffee – in a single gulp. This time at least he didn’t spill it all over himself. “I would like to stay the night if you’re sure it’s alright.”

Dean held his hands up, as though it weren’t up to him, even though this was his apartment and Castiel was wearing his clothes. “Mi casa es tu casa,” he said, smiling again. “Never had an angel to stay though.”

“I don’t need anything,” Castiel was quick to assure him. Now that he was warm and comfortable he was loathe to go back outside into the street. The view was uninspiring and although the cold didn’t affect him he could still feel it. This couch in Dean’s home was much more inviting.

“Okay,” Dean said, as though he’d decided something in his head, “Okay, look, you can stay tonight and we’ll...we’ll figure this out, Cas.”

Not for the first time, Castiel wondered at why Dean had shortened his name the way he had, but for the first time in a few thousand years, Castiel felt welcomed somewhere. He wasn’t sure why the thought that Dean offering his hospitality should create such a warmth within him, especially as Castiel could rework reality around them on some level, but whatever the reason, it did and as Dean took his cup from him, smiling at him, softly, Castiel found that he could only smile back.


	4. Chapter 4

The alarm didn’t go off on a Saturday morning, but typically Dean woke early despite it. He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling in that blissful moment where his dreams faded into pleasant memories but the responsibility of the approaching day had not yet overtaken him. Through the door he could hear the muffled sounds of the television even though it was on low. Cas must be watching something, he reasoned. Cas was in his lounge, watching television and was an angel. That was a thing that had happened.

Dean was suddenly quite aware of an ache in his leg, probably from the speed with which he’d thrown himself across the room yesterday, but then in his defence – he hadn’t expected Cas to be a literal angel. He’d thought he was some crazy guy off the street that had hidden it really well up until the point when he started talking about living in Heaven. He hadn’t expected him to be an actual angel...with  _ wings _ . All things considered, Dean felt like he was taking it rather well.

Heaven was real, angels existed and one of those angels was sleeping or not-sleeping on Dean’s couch.

Everything was fine, he thought, as everything he knew about the world burned around him.

With relatively little effort, Dean pulled himself out of bed, pulled on a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt, and wondered what on earth he would do with the angel on his couch.

Stepping out into the hall, Dean could see that Cas was watching Doctor Sexy. He’d figured out how to use the remote at least. Dean approached cautiously, even though Cas hadn’t shown himself to be a threat. Or, at least, Dean didn’t feel threatened by him. He stepped into the lounge and around the sofa; when he looked down at Cas he almost laughed.

A threat? This guy? The guy who was stretched out on the sofa, bolstered by cushions and tucked under a blanket up to his chin, for no other reason, Dean assumed, than the blanket being particularly fluffy. Dean wasn’t sure if Cas had actually slept, but he looked like he might have; his hair soft and mussed against the cushions as he smiled up at Dean in what seemed to be a slight daze.

“Dean,” he murmured, his voice sounding as low as it did that first time he’d spoken to him. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Cas,” Dean said, softly, unable to stop smiling at the guy. “I see you figured out the tv.”

“I did,” Cas affirmed proudly, before turning a frown towards it, “Although, I must confess I don’t think any of these surgeons attended medical school and some of the practices they engage in are downright unsanitary...”

Dean glanced over at the screen where two “doctors” were celebrating a successful operation on the operating table.

“I don’t think that table was properly disinfected before they began copulating on it.”

Before he could stop himself Dean snorted, covering his mouth as though he could stop the hilarity escaping him.

“And that is to say nothing of the exchange between the pizza man and the babysitter I witnessed before I figured out how to use the remote.”

Dean’s mouth fell open, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. What could he possibly say? He’d been wondering a moment ago what the hell he was going to do with an angel in his space and now he was trying to stop collapsing to the floor at how ridiculous the situation was.

“You want some breakfast there, buddy?” Dean offered, at a loss at anything else to say or do.

“Is it pie?” Cas asked, looking up almost eagerly. “I very much liked your pie.”

Dean couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his lips, “You can have pie.”

Cas looked way too happy at that simple admission, grinning as though he’d never engaged in as simple a pleasure as having pie for breakfast. Then again, maybe he hadn’t. Did angels have breakfast? Not that there was ever a shortage of pie in Dean’s fridge and if there was it wasn’t like he had to go far to remedy that particular issue.

“So...do angels need to eat? You said you don’t feel things, does that mean you don’t get hungry? Thirsty?”

“We don’t  _ need _ to eat but...” Cas hesitated, cutting a small piece of the pie with the fork to chew it, “mmpf, this is delicious,” he said, around a mouthful.

Dean grinned; he knew the pie was good, there was no shortage of compliments for his pie, but they hadn’t come from an angel that didn’t need to eat and as far as Dean knew, had never eaten anything before.

“It’s much nicer than your body wash,” Cas said sincerely, which made Dean do a double-take over his own pie. (Well, if his guest was partaking, it would be rude for Dean to forego it, right?)

“Cas...did...did you eat the body wash?”

Cas gave a small shrug, his eyes still on the television screen, “It smelled good. I have since learned it was not edible. Dean, is it entirely ethical for medical practitioners to engage in such behaviour with their superiors  _ and _ their patients?”

“This isn’t a documentary, Cas, it’s fiction. It’s just actors playing out a story.”

Again, Cas’ eyes didn’t leave the screen, “That explains a great deal. The anaesthesiologist clearly has no knowledge of sedatives.”

They didn’t say anything else while the episode played out. Cas was glued to the screen while he ate his pie, while Dean’s eyes regarded Cas without wavering. He figured he could be forgiven if Cas had asked Dean would have pointed out that he’d never seen an angel before. Of course, that had nothing to do with it. He’d been distracted the night before by how well Cas filled out his shirt, but now, in Dean’s shirt, with a blanket bunched at his waist as he ate pie for breakfast looking rumpled and soft from sleep; Dean was absolutely going to look.

Cas didn’t move until the credits rolled, placing his empty plate on the coffee table as he turned the television off with a satisfied sigh. “As inaccurate as that show is I am glad Doctor Sexy managed to resolve his romantic issues with his colleague.”

Dean snorted, the angel was a fan of Doctor Sexy. Shouldn’t that be...blasphemy or something? Cas looked at him expectantly and Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, “So uh...I had an idea about finding your brothers.”

Cas raised an eyebrow, “They aren’t lost, Dean, and given that until yesterday you seemed unaware that angels existed I didn’t think you’d have any capabilities in summoning them.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright wise guy, it was just a thought. Go get dressed, it’ll beat hanging around the sidewalk anyway.”

If he’d thought about it, Dean might have thought it presumptuous to tell an angel his business, but Cas didn’t seem to mind. He took a moment to fold the blanket neatly and place it on the floor with the others that he hadn’t used before he headed for the bathroom. Dean’s eyes followed him with every step until the door closed behind him. The shorts he’d borrowed had slipped down in the night, hanging low off his hips and not for the first time Dean couldn’t look away. He should though, was it a sin to ogle an angel? Probably? Cas slipped into the bathroom and Dean gave a quiet, “Eh,” it was worth a stint in the bad place to check out that ass.

Not that Cas didn’t look good when he stepped back out, this time wearing the suit he’d worn the day before, though it looked a lot more comfortable when it wasn’t dripping with rainwater. It felt strangely reassuring to watch him step back into the trench coat and snap its collar. When Cas looked at him expectantly, Dean realised that he’d been so caught up in staring that he hadn’t actually gotten dressed himself.

“Two seconds,” he called, breezing into his own bedroom and grateful that he showered the night before. When he emerged, Cas didn’t seem to have minded the wait, but then this was the guy who had been prepared to wait outside for as long as it took so patience was obviously his thing.

“Alright,” Dean said, grabbing his car keys and slipping on his shoes even though the laces were still tied. “Let’s get going and no smart ass comments about how I don’t know what I’m doing alright?”

He regretted the joke when Cas’ face fell. “I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sure whatever you have planned will be helpful.”

“It was a joke, Cas,” Dean said, quickly, “I really don’t know what I’m doing. It’s just I’ve been thinking about what you said and I figured-”

“Dean,” Cas said, holding his hand up to stop him, “You have already shown me great hospitality and I appreciate your willingness to spend time with me, your company is certainly preferable to standing in the street in the rain.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh as he steered them down the stairway and out the door. “Man, I should put that on my next dating profile, ‘certainly preferable to standing in the street in the rain.” He was still laughing even though Cas looked confused.

“What’s a “dating profile”?” he asked as they stepped into the street.

“Oh... uh…” Dean tried to think how best to describe the concept to an angel of all things. “Sometimes if you want to find someone to...y’know.. _.date _ , then you’d make a profile where you describe yourself and list things people might find interesting about you. Reasons for them to give you a chance.”

“Dean, you are a remarkable person, I’m sure you could think of numerous things to put on your dating profile.”

Somehow, Dean wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.

* * *

Confidence was a good look on Dean, Castiel decided. He gave off an air of it at all times, which might be enough to fool the humans around him, but Castiel could see past it to the insecurities that lay within. At least until they got into Dean’s car. Castiel had never been in such a vehicle before, but he felt entirely comfortable the moment Dean’s hands took the wheel. There was no bravado, Dean was totally at ease and in turn Castiel relaxed into the car seat.

He didn’t know where they were going, but actually, he found he didn’t mind the mystery. The car was comfortable and a great deal prettier than the others they passed on the road. Dean’s hands were steady on the wheel and he sang along to various songs playing from speakers Castiel couldn’t detect. His voice was low and he seemed to be trying to disguise its true quality by playing up to the music, but Castiel enjoyed it nonetheless. It had been a long time since he’d listened to someone singing and never a human. There was a great deal of difference between Dean’s solitary voice carving out a tune and a choir of angels singing praises to their Father, but Castiel enjoyed Dean’s rendition better.

The journey was short, inexplicably Castiel found himself longing for it to have lasted longer, but they had the return journey ahead of them, after they had gone wherever it was that Dean was taking them.

Castiel did not recognise the building Dean brought them to, not that he had expected to do so. The facade meant little to him, though he was aware that Dean was looking at him expectantly. He was about to ask where they were when he spied a board attached to one of the walls.

‘The Church of All Angels.’

When he looked back at Dean, Dean was rubbing his hand at the back of his neck nervously. “Look, it might be dumb, alright? But, I couldn’t think of any other way you might be able to call your brothers. So I figured...you could always pray, right?”

“That’s...” Castiel hesitated, during which time Dean’s face fell a little, “That’s an excellent idea, Dean,” he said, glad to see Dean smile again, if a little sheepishly. It hadn’t been for his sake he’d hesitated. Dean was quite right; he  _ could _ pray. He didn’t even need a church to do it from. But...his brothers  _ should _ have been there. Deep down Castiel knew that something was wrong. He’d known it from the moment he had appeared in front of Dean’s shop and found it empty except for the passing human traffic. It was likely nothing, time had no meaning, they would be along as he had so vehemently insisted to Dean. At any time he could have prayed and likely the moment he did so his brothers would be with him as happy to see him as Castiel would be to see them. But if they didn’t...If the deep, gnawing sensation within Castiel’s gut was shown to be true and his brothers were not coming for him then…

Well. He didn’t know what he’d do. He hadn’t allowed himself to consider that particular impossibility.

“You uh...want to go in?” Dean asked after a moment wherein Castiel hadn’t actually moved.

He took a deep breath. As an angel he didn’t need to breathe, even in the human form he had assumed it as an affectation, something to make him appear as those around him yet he couldn’t deny that it grounded him, centred him, almost as much as Dean’s hand on his shoulder, guiding him through the great double doors of the church.

It was quiet inside. A large, open space with vaulted ceilings, sandstone pillars and uncomfortable looking pews where a handful of people were scattered, kneeling or crouched in various ways, their lips moving silently. Castiel watched them for a moment before his eyes were drawn away to a huge stone statue of what looked like a human with majestic wings, crushing a twisted creature underfoot, piercing it with a spear.

“What is that?” Castiel asked, having not known humans to have had wings at any point in their existence.

Dean looked at the sculpture for a moment before glancing around for something, his eyes landed on a small stand just next to it and he read, “The Archangel Michael casting down Lucifer...”

Castiel snorted, “ _ That’s _ the Archangel? And why does Lucifer look like that? He was an Archangel too, should he not be as beautiful as Michael? More so even, he  _ was _ the Morning Star, the most beautiful of us all?”

When Castiel looked up, Dean was staring at him with an expression that seemed caught between bemused and awestruck.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel muttered, “The...uh...craftsmanship is excellent.”

Dean laughed, long and hard, which was entirely inappropriate given their surroundings and more than one parishioner turned to stare at them, shushing them loudly.

“Let’s take a look around, shall we?” Dean said, still laughing behind his breath. He clearly had never been to this church before, but he seemed relatively comfortable as the two of them wandered around, taking in the very many paintings, statues, displays, brasses and a hundred other things that the humans had apparently pushed into the single space. As though the sanctity of such a place could be increased by the amount of cherubim pictured on the walls.

“Why are they all male?” Castiel whispered, after passing yet another image of Gabriel apparently announcing to a virgin that she was pregnant. He wasn’t entirely sure of the specifics of such a thing but it sounded like the kind of joke Gabriel would play.

Dean gave a small shrug, “I guess they didn’t have much to go on so they just made them men with wings.”

“Angels are not men.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, man, this isn’t exactly my area.”

“And if they’re basing it off human experience then why aren’t there any women depicted here?”

Dean laughed again, but this time he managed to quickly disguise it as a cough, “Oh Cas, you are opening a can of worms there. We’ll have to get you a book or something, come on.”

They stepped through another archway (the building had a lot of archways) and found themselves in a side chapel. Smaller than the others they had seen, with fewer chairs and far less trappings. An ‘angel’ of some description hung above the altar, its stare firm but kindly, its stone hand raised in a benediction, even though such blessings had been beyond Castiel and his brothers.

“I’ll leave you for a minute, I’ll wait out front..? ” Dean said, shuffling his feet awkwardly. 

He stepped away, quickly and Castiel watched him go, wondering why Dean should suddenly become so nervous and why he would want to leave Castiel alone. Then his eyes fell on the others in the main body of the church, they were all praying but they were all doing it separately. Perhaps it was a solitary activity.

Taking a place at one of the chairs, Castiel knelt awkwardly, resting his arms across the chair in front of him. He hadn’t meant to assume this position particularly, but his hands seemed to come together quite naturally as he had seen the other humans doing. He looked up at the statue ahead of him, it seemed to be looking back at him but emotionless. Quite like an angel then.

“Brothers,” he said, before he truly realised that he was speaking, “My watch has ended and I have returned to earth, but no one was here to greet me. I cannot return to Heaven on my own. Please, I’m here, I’m ready to come home. I...I hadn’t appreciated how long I would be kept from you.”

Castiel paused and looked around him, but he was still alone. His heart, if he had one, cracked a little within him. The essence of himself seemed to diminish a little, leaving a gaping wound. Again he fixed his eyes on the stone angel, the closest he had to kin right now. “Brothers?” he tried again, his voice sounding weak even to his own ears. “Gabriel? Benjamin? Uriel?” he stopped short of calling out every name he knew, fearing his own desperation. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, they would already have heard.

They had heard.

They had done nothing.

The statue met Castiel’s stare for the longest time, which of them would crumble first if he stayed? Eventually, he pulled himself up and, unable to quite comprehend what had happened or what it meant, he dragged himself out of the church.

It wasn’t possible that Castiel was panicking. But then, Castiel wouldn’t have thought it was possible that his brothers would have abandoned him. He leaned back against the cold stone of the church and tried to calm himself. He was hyperventilating - he recognised it from ‘Dr. Sexy’. He shouldn’t have been, of course. He should have been able to catch his breath, to quiet the roaring in his ears and there was...dampness gathering in his eyes. 

He raised a hand to touch his face. It came away wet but he didn’t know why. When he glanced around himself he realised that he was alone. Of course, his brothers hadn’t come but Dean was gone. Not that Castiel had the right to expect anything else. Dean had already proved himself more than generous these last few days; he was under no obligation to remain. Still, Castiel couldn’t help but feel his absence as keenly as he felt that of his brothers. 

He was alone.

But then he looked up and saw Dean emerge from a shop a few doors down the street. He was holding a book up, its title obscured but Dean’s grin was triumphant, at least until he saw Castiel and then it faltered. He practically ran to his side, crossing the space between them in a few, long strides, grasping Castiel’s shoulder as though he would have to hold him up. “Cas, what happened? Are you okay?”

More than anything, Castiel wanted to fold against him in the way he’d seen the dramatic overly emotional characters in the television drama he’d watched. Instead, he could only stare for a moment, trying to find his voice while hiding his face so that Dean wouldn’t see his weakness.

“I’d like to go home now,” Castiel said, his voice cracking as he realised what he’d said. “Your home I mean...if...if we can?”

“What? Yeah, sure, c’mon.”

Dean did not let go of Castiel as he steered them back towards the car. He took them home, settled Castiel on the couch again and after that Castiel was only dimly aware of what Dean was doing. He felt Dean help him out of the trench-coat even though Castiel was not warm. There was food and drink put in front of him that Castiel had no interest in eating and so he did not, but Dean took it away again without a word of complaint. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t push, but Castiel could feel his eyes on him constantly. The television went on, but Castiel didn’t see it, even though he was looking right at it.

At some point, he heard Dean murmur, “Good night, Cas,” and there was a comforting hand on his shoulder. A light went off and though a lamp had been left on for Castiel’s benefit, he had never felt such darkness.

There was silence for a long, long time and then suddenly, a sound. A harsh thing, almost a cry. For a moment, Castiel could not place it or determine from where it had come. Another cry and he realised it was him. He could not stop it, he had not even known he’d started it. But now that he had, he was sobbing, the depth of emotion barely constrained by his human form. His cries made the windows shake, the glass of water that Dean had left him trembled before him and there was a light bleeding from his eyes that could not be attributed to the lamp.

There were footsteps, softly padding towards him, and then Dean was kneeling before him. He didn’t say anything, but his arms were strong around Castiel, stronger than Castiel felt at any rate. Castiel folded against him, clutching at Dean’s back, his arms. His face was wet and his cries were unstoppable, though the windows had stopped shaking at least, beyond them sudden and inexplicable rain lashed down as lightning scorched the skies, almost as bright as the grace in Castiel’s eyes. The thunder drowned out his sobs.

But through it all, there was Dean. Dean’s arms around him, his voice in his ear, softly shushing him but not berating him. A steady stream of, “It’s okay, Cas. It’s okay. It’s okay...” 


	5. Chapter 5

When Dean woke up, the first thing he realised was that he wasn’t in his bed. He knew from experience that he was folded across his couch, his neck leaning awkwardly on the arm. He specifically got the couch because it was long enough for him to stretch out on but it struggled with two.

The second thing he realised was that he wasn’t alone. There was a warm body curled around him.

Oh yeah.

_ Cas _ .

Dean opened his eyes and found Cas wrapped in his arms, his eyes closed and breathing softly. He remembered hearing Cas cry out before Dean had even fallen asleep. He remembered the sudden thunderstorm, the white light that shone from Cas’ eyes as the room shook and Cas cried. He remembered noticing that he wasn’t as terrified as he probably should have been. If anything, he was just sad. How could he not be when Cas’ heart was breaking in front of him?

Not that Dean had known what on earth he could possibly do to help. So he’d wrapped his arms around Cas and tried to soothe him like he would if he was just another person and not an angel trembling so hard it felt like his very being was trying to escape the human form he’d assumed.

Dean adjusted his position a little but Cas didn’t wake. Assuming he was asleep, Dean frowned and brushed Cas’ hair back from his face even though it wasn’t long enough to cover it. He was sure Cas had said at some point that angels didn’t sleep but he was most definitely asleep.

His chest rose and fell against Dean’s in a steady rhythm. Neither did he stir when Dean stretched again, trying to alleviate the ache in his neck but he didn’t want to move. He was comfortable like this. Well. No. He was decidedly uncomfortable but Cas was warm in his arms and looked so peaceful he didn’t want to disturb him. Not when he looked so vulnerable in sleep, his cheeks still streaked with the tracks of what might have been tears the night before. Dean wasn’t entirely sure; they had been glowing after all.

As though he’d felt him staring, Cas shifted in Dean’s arms and his eyes opened. For a moment Dean’s breath caught in his chest and stayed there. Cas’ eyes were so blue. Bluer than they had any right to be and Dean was trapped by them. But then Cas frowned and wiped a hand over his face as though expecting to find something there.

“I was asleep?” he asked, confusion evident in his voice.

“Uh...yeah,” Dean offered even though he wasn’t quite sure what to say in the face of Cas’ sudden panic.

“Angels don’t sleep.”

“You were pretty upset though,” Dean suggested gently. “Maybe you just wiped yourself out.”

Cas didn’t look convinced but it quickly gave way to embarrassment. His cheeks flushed and for a moment he couldn’t meet Dean’s eye. It was kind of adorable. If angels were capable of being adorable...apparently they were.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that, Dean.”

It felt strange to be having this conversation when they were so close Dean could feel Cas’ breath against his skin.

“Don’t worry about it-” He made to get up but his neck clicked painfully and whatever reassurances he was about to give Cas were lost in an undignified yelp.

Instantly, Cas’ entire focus became concern for Dean. Dean could read it in his face.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

Cas’ hand went straight to cup his cheek and Dean felt himself go up in flames as his face flushed red. This must be an angel thing but he was suddenly very aware that he was lying on his couch with Cas in his arms while the guy touched his face.

Dean’s life had never been more ridiculous.

“I can help,” Cas decided in a tone that suggested the matter wasn’t up for debate. He slipped off the couch to make space for Dean. “Lie on your stomach, please.”

Dean wasn’t sure what he was doing. He didn’t decide ‘yes, I’m going to do what Cas says,’ so much as he found himself lying on his stomach, trying to rest his head in a way that didn’t aggravate his neck.

“Relax,” Cas said quietly, settling himself beside Dean’s legs. He paused. “Dean, do you have any lubricant?”

Dean froze against the cushions. “Uh...say again, Cas?”

“Wait...I believe I saw something I could use in your bathroom.”

“Uh...Cas..?”

“Wait here.”

The thigh that Cas had been leaning beside felt cold without him there but Dean found he couldn’t move.

Cas wasn’t-

There was no way he was going to-

Not that Dean would be opposed but...maybe they should get to know each other a bit first?

Did angels even..?

Cas came back and settled beside Dean again.

“Cas..?” Dean started wondering how he was going to address that he was flattered, no really he was, and he might even be down for it but…

“Lie still,” Cas said softly. “I think I’ve picked up the basics from Doctor Sexy.”

Dean’s heart was hammering so loud that Charlie would surely be up at any moment to see what the problem was. Giving her the Monday opening had seemed like a good idea at the time and now he was about to have the most awkward conversation of his life with an angel.

“No, Cas, listen-” but then Cas’ hands were on Dean’s back, firm yet impossibly gentle as Cas kneaded out the kinks in Dean’s muscles.

_ Oh. _

Dean had never heard himself make the noise he made as Cas’ hands swept over his shoulders but he couldn’t quite stop making it. Whatever Cas had found in the bathroom (and come to think of it... hadn’t Lisa brought a bottle of massage oil over once upon a time?) meant there was no friction as his hands pressed, pushed, stroked, and slid all over Dean’s back and his neck.

It was heaven. Or at least as close to heaven as Dean was surely ever likely to get.

Cas’ fingers found their way to Dean’s neck and worked out way more than one night of awkward angles. Every cheap motel bed from his childhood, every delivery that he’d lifted with his back instead of his knees, every ounce of tension he’d been carrying since before he was old enough to know what it was was eased from him.

He wasn’t sure when it ended or even if he’d drifted off before Cas had finished. But what Dean did know is that when he came back to himself his body felt weightless. There was no pain and everything was wonderful.

“I believe your neck pain has been sufficiently relieved.”

Cas’ voice was as low as it ever was and Dean thought he could feel it rumble through his being.

“Mmm,” Dean managed to slur. He wasn’t going to get up. He wasn’t going to move ever again. He would end his life on the couch floating on waves of bliss and consider it a fine way to go.

It sounded like Cas chuckled but Dean was too far gone to pay attention. He was content to float right up until he registered Cas standing beside the couch again. He let his eyes drift open but frowned when he saw that Cas was wearing his full trench coat get-up.

“Thank you for everything, Dean,” Cas sighed as Dean looked up at him, wondering what exactly was going on.

“Oh uh...you’re welcome, I guess?” Dean said. “You going somewhere?”

He could have kicked himself. Of course, he was going somewhere. Why would he stay?

Cas gave a shrug that seemed to make him look much smaller than he was.

“I suppose I should find something I can do on this planet,” he sighed and Dean almost snorted about how that was a thing that could be said now and it made sense. “I don’t know what I’ll do or where I’ll go but...” he held out his hands in a gesture of defeat, “...I won’t presume upon your time and home any longer. It was very kind of you to invite me in, Dean. Everything else was...” he trailed off as though he couldn’t find the words.

Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Uh...sure...Cas but you know you don’t have to go anywhere, right?”

Cas looked at him as though no, he didn’t know that.

They were both quiet for a long time. Dean might not rank particularly high in emotional intelligence but he recognised that there was something going on and he didn’t want to let Cas wander off into nothing in particular. Not after last night.

Dean could still hear his cries in his head.

When Cas eventually spoke again his voice was quiet. Small. “I don’t?”

Dean pushed himself up so that he was sitting up again even though his limbs were still somewhere on cloud nine and protested having to move at all. “No, Cas. You can stay as long as you like-” That might have been a bit forward. Dean tried again. “I mean...it’s no trouble...having you here.”

Cas’ smile seemed to bloom from somewhere within, reaching out into every part of him even though it was only the smallest twitch of his lips. Then it was gone again and he frowned. “But...what will I do?”

Dean thought for a moment before he grinned despite himself. “You wanna learn how to bake?”

* * *

Despite having already spent some time in the coffee shop, Castiel was surprised to find that it was a small community all in itself. The shop existed as a place where people exchanged their money for coffee and, more often than not, a slice of pie. But it was also so much more than that. Dean knew most of the customers by name and their preferred order. If someone came in who he didn’t recognise he would make sure to ask them what they liked and recommend something based on their preferences. Those that didn’t take him up on it were at least touched by the offer and those that did were never disappointed.

Either way, everybody seemed to leave with a smile on their face.

Then there were the staff. Dean had introduced the red-haired woman as Charlie and she had promptly declared that she and Castiel were best friends, taking his arm gleefully. Kevin worked weekends with Charlie and the occasional morning to help Dean set up. He didn’t declare his immediate devotion to Castiel but he was friendly enough. There were several other workers who mostly came in for one or two shifts a week and Dean treated every one of them as if they were his family.

A family into which Castiel had been immediately adopted.

They were all perfectly friendly to him and didn’t mind that he clearly had no idea how to make even a basic cup of coffee. In fact, they thought it was funny without being malicious. They were happy enough to have him behind the counter even if he wasn’t much help to them. Charlie liked having someone to talk to and after a day or so of watching her, Castiel had managed to grasp the basics of operating the till.

It seemed only natural that Castiel would start taking the money and issuing change while Charlie, Kevin or Dean made the drinks. Although Dean insisted Castiel didn’t need to ‘earn his keep’, Castiel didn’t mind.

He felt useful.

Besides, he enjoyed the company of Dean’s friends. It had been centuries since he’d had conversation and he hadn’t realised how much he had missed it. It was not quite the same as in Heaven, of course. There was no choir to create an ambient backdrop to even the most banal of exchanges. Instead, there was a quiet thrum of what Castiel had learned was called ‘rock music’ and the happy chatter of customers who were very much enjoying their pie.

And he liked that he could contribute in this small way. Upon his return to Heaven he would have been allowed to ‘watch’ after his many years of service. But here he could do something. It was small and arguably meaningless but Castiel found a dignity in it. He didn’t feel so bad for presuming on Dean’s hospitality.

Not that Dean minded and he went to great lengths to show it.

They had fallen into a routine that was almost beautiful in its simplicity. Castiel thought it was beautiful anyway.

Dean would wake up and Castiel would have breakfast waiting for him. It wasn’t much but Dean always looked at him as though he were witnessing creation itself when he did. Castiel had yet to brave the kitchen alone but his wings still worked and Dean had ensured that he received a wage for the work he did. Castiel wasn’t sure what it was that an angel might spend money on, but flying around the world to purchase various baked goods fresh from bakeries in France and Belgium amongst others felt appropriate.

After breakfast, Castiel would follow Dean downstairs and help him start the opening up procedures before they retreated into the back room where Dean would start the baking. Castiel had yet to pick up the finer skills of baking. He mostly mixed together the simpler fillings that Dean had taught him and peeled apples. Charlie and Kevin had both told him that Dean was just trying to get out of what he considered to be the most tedious job. Dean had said it too but Castiel didn’t mind. It was his favourite part of the day.

Dean knew where everything was and where he needed everything to be. He moved around Castiel with ease, arranging him with casual touches. Dean’s hand was never far from his shoulders, his arms, his waist...Those were Castiel’s favourite; when Dean needed to get something from the shelf above Castiel but didn’t want to move him, so one hand would rest on his hip as though to keep him steady as the other reached over him. It was the smallest of touches but Castiel hadn’t been touched since he had bid his brothers goodbye so very long ago and he hadn’t been touched by a human, no one but Dean.

Dean’s touch was warm and it lingered even after he had pulled away. He didn’t touch anyone else. Not as effortlessly anyway. It might not have meant anything but it meant something to Castiel and he treasured every brush of Dean’s fingers.

At the end of the day, Dean and Castiel would lock up and return to Dean’s apartment. Dean had stared at Castiel in absolute wonder when he’d revealed that he’d spent the last hundred years or so watching the stars to keep the world safe. But that wonder had turned to incredulity when he realised that Castiel had therefore completely missed all ‘the classics’

Castiel had not known what ‘Star Wars’ was but now he was well versed. And not just in ‘Star Wars’. They had also watched ‘Indiana Jones’ and were now into ‘Harry Potter’ as Charlie had made Dean promise they wouldn’t do ‘Lord of the Rings’ without her. Castiel might not have been entirely sure what made them ‘classics’ but he did enjoy the stories and he thought it a marvel that humans could create such drama. There was nothing like it in Heaven.

But it was the time spent with Dean that was the true joy. They would change into what Dean had termed ‘lounging clothes’ before settling on the couch. Dean would always ask first. The couch had become Castiel’s domain since he used it as a makeshift bed even if he didn’t sleep. Or at least...shouldn’t have slept. He’d drifted off once or twice but he hadn’t told Dean that. He didn’t want to worry him. So instead, they’d stretch out beside each other, often with a bowl of something between them.

Popcorn, chips or more likely some leftover pie. There was always leftover pie.

Eventually, Dean would go to bed. Though, as the week went on, he tried to fight that particular compulsion and attempt to stay awake longer. On those nights he usually fell asleep on the couch. Castiel was loathe to wake him; Dean always looked so peaceful when he slept but inevitably he had to.

Sometimes after Dean fell asleep Castiel would watch him. It felt right. A bridge between his life as an angel and the life he was making on Earth. With Dean.

Dean had told him he didn’t have to stay while making it clear that he wasn’t expecting him to leave. But Dean was a steady constant, the warmth at his side and Castiel didn’t want to leave. Maybe one day he’d feel differently. For now, Castiel was content to enjoy Dean’s warmth whether it be in his smile, his touch, or his company.

“You okay there, Cas?” Dean asked, snapping Cas out of his reverie.

He’d been staring again.

It was hard not to.

Dean’s eyes were very green. A shade of green that Castiel had never seen with his gaze turned to the skies. It was unique to Earth. Unique to Dean.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

Dean had taken a half day. After making sure the shop was all set up for the weekend ahead, which Dean would also not be working and therefore, by extension neither would Castiel, they’d returned to Dean’s apartment where he’d started baking another pie.

Castiel watched... or stared might be more apt.

Dean was used to it. Normally, he would have smiled softly with a shake of his head but he seemed almost nervous. He took a breath, starting whatever it was he’d been saying again. “So, tonight...I was going to head over to my brother’s. Get a pizza. Watch a movie...You uh...think you’ll be okay hanging out here on your own for a while?”

Castiel cocked his head and smiled. He had survived far worse than an evening alone in Dean’s apartment but he couldn’t help but be touched by Dean’s concern.

“Of course, Dean. I’ll be fine.”

But when it came to it Castiel found himself at a loss without Dean beside him.

It was strange being in Dean’s space without him. He tried to settle to a task but found he couldn’t concentrate. Television failed to capture his interest. There was the book Dean had acquired for him during their outing to the church: _ A History of Church Architecture and Statuary _ . Yet Castiel found that he had read the same page several times and not taken in a single word of it. Charlie would be downstairs in the shop but it was not her company he sought even though she was pleasant enough.

His eyes wandered to the hallway as though Dean might reappear but of course, he did not. Castiel sighed a sound that belied his great age and tried to turn his attention back to the book. He had been prepared to wait for days in the rain for his brothers but he could not seem to bear out these few hours without Dean.

He sighed again, his eyes wandering of their own volition to the hallway. The sound of the book snapping shut in his hand almost startled him before he realised he was being ridiculous. Castiel was an Angel of the Lord. He had kept the Earth safe since creation was in its infancy. He did not know why he should not be able to turn his mind from thoughts of Dean Winchester but then he was in  _ Dean’s _ home above  _ Dean’s _ shop wearing  _ Dean’s _ clothes.

The suit that had assumed human form with him was around somewhere and the trench coat was in the hallway. Maybe a short walk would clear his mind. Maybe a longer walk. It wasn’t as though he were constrained by human limitations. 


	6. Chapter 6

There was pizza, beer, good company and a movie so Dean should have been happy. He’d even picked up the pizza himself so there was no chance of Sam ‘forgetting’ the extra bacon. The two of them should have been picking apart how ridiculous the movie was. The heroine was relaxing into the bath even though she’d clearly heard someone on the stairs and they’d ignored every one of her calls. 

“Get out of the house!” Sam shouted at the screen as he reached for another slice of pizza. He paused and looked over at Dean who hadn’t eaten as much as he normally would have by now. Nor had he joined in with the usual heckling. 

The woman on the screen started screaming as the ghost- was it a ghost? Or was it just some guy? Dean wasn’t sure, he’d not been paying much attention. Should he have left Cas? The guy was probably fine. What was Dean worried about? It wasn’t as if he could hurt himself in Dean’s flat. He probably couldn’t hurt himself at all for that matter. But...still...he could see Sam any time. He’d invited Cas into his home and just left him…

“Dean?” Sam called and Dean looked up to see that the woman was now kicking her way to freedom but Sam was looking at him curiously. “You okay?”

“Huh, yeah, why?” 

“You haven’t touched your pizza.”

Dean gave a small shrug and pretended that he was watching the movie. 

Alright, so maybe...maybe he wasn’t  _ worried _ about Cas per se. Maybe he was more concerned with the way Cas had fit so effortlessly into his life. It had been a week since Dean had first laid eyes on him, less since he’d practically dragged him off the street and onto his couch but already he felt weird without the guy beside him. 

Cas was his first thought when he woke and the last thing he saw before he went to sleep. And sometimes, Cas was his only thought when he found himself in the privacy of his shower. In between, Cas was always there. Ever present and always looking at Dean as though he could see something in him that Dean couldn’t see in himself. He looked at Dean as though he were something special, something wonderful. Nobody had ever looked at Dean like that. Whenever he caught Cas looking at him, which he did a lot actually, his lips were always parted on a small smile, as though he couldn’t believe his luck.

Which was kind of ironic given that Cas was the funny one. The kind one. The gorgeous one. It wasn’t just the way that he’d fit into his home life but his working life too. He was friendly with Dean’s friends, he chatted with the regulars...well...in the unique way that Cas ‘chatted’. The nuances of humour and conversation, in general, were lost to him so more often than not he ended up giving deadpan observations. Dean thought they were hilarious.

“Dean?” Sam called again. “You okay? You’re miles away.”

“Oh yeah...sorry,” Dean gave him a weak smile. “This is...pretty good, huh?” he said, gesturing to the movie but from the way Sam looked at him he realised that actually, no, it wasn’t. 

Sam didn’t push it but Dean saw him looking over every now and then out of the corner of his eye. 

Dean forced his attention onto the movie and started eating some pizza. He could stop thinking about Cas for the duration of a terrible film. Even if he couldn’t help but acknowledge that he would prefer to be watching it with Cas. There was nothing wrong with Sam but he really did enjoy Cas’ company. 

He enjoyed everything about Cas.

If he thought about it too long he might start to realise that people didn’t think about their friends the way Dean thought about Cas. They didn’t think that way about guys who were only sticking around because they had nowhere else to go. People certainly didn’t think about angels who probably didn’t even know what attraction was.

That was the crux of it. He really did like Cas. Like…  _ Like _ -like. 

And he didn’t know what to do with it. 

Anyway, he could worry about that in the privacy of his own room like he had the last few nights. Right now he was watching a movie with Sam.

Except, when Dean focused on the screen it was black and Sam was looking at him expectantly. 

“Hey...I was watching that,” Dean said but Sam only raised an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“Yeah? What were we watching?” 

Dean opened his mouth to answer before he realised that actually...he didn’t know. 

“Are you okay, Dean?” Sam asked. “Is there something you wanna tell me?”

Dean’s heart stopped in his chest. Did he know? He didn’t know about Cas, did he? He’d swung by the shop a couple of times in the week but Cas had been out back with Charlie and Dean hadn’t introduced them. Had Charlie said something? Charlie wouldn’t have told him, would she? 

“Like what?” Dean managed to choke out. 

“You’re acting weird. Is something wrong?”

“No!” Dean said quickly, way too quickly. Sam wasn’t convinced. “I’m just...tired I guess. It’s been a long week, y’know?”

It looked as though Sam might have actually bought that but before he could start with his usual sympathetic reassurances, Dean’s phone started buzzing in his pocket. For one panicked moment, Dean thought it would be Cas before he remembered that Cas didn’t have a phone. It was Charlie so Dean held up a finger to Sam as he swiped to answer. 

“S’up bitches,” Charlie trilled even though there was only one of Dean and he hadn’t said ‘hello’ yet. “We’re all done but I just wanted to let you know I’ve left Kevin’s keys in the till.”

Dean frowned. “I thought you were leaving them with Cas?”

“Yeah, well, he isn’t there-”

“What do you mean he isn’t there?” Dean asked over her before she could finish. “He’s at my place-”

“He must have gone out,” Charlie offered reasonably. “It’s no big deal.”

But where could he have gone? It wasn’t like he had a bustling social life and he hadn’t mentioned anything before Dean had left. 

“You’re sure he’s not there?” 

He could practically hear her shrug but he cut her off before she could say anything more. 

“I gotta get back,” Dean muttered, shoving the phone in his pocket and the hardly touched pizza onto the coffee table.

Sam had gone from looking vaguely concerned to alarmed. “What’s happened? Who’s Cas?”

“Nothing. No one. Forget it,” Dean said, his heart pounding somewhere in his throat. “Look, I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” 

He didn’t remember what Sam said as he left or the journey home. 

The shop was in darkness as he expected it to be but so was his apartment. Charlie was right, Cas wasn’t there. 

“Cas?” he called as though he would walk in on him just sitting in darkness. It wouldn’t have been the first time. 

But there was no sign of him. No sign of anything.

The apartment was empty.

Cas was gone. 

Dean dropped onto the couch and ran a hand through his hair. 

Well that was that. 

What else did he think was going to happen? Cas wasn’t about to stick around. He’d probably found somewhere else to hang out. He was always zipping around the world. What was Dean’s little coffee shop to that? Cas could go anywhere, do anything... Why would he stay in Dean’s apartment helping Dean peel apples and grind coffee? 

He might have said goodbye though...or leave a note. Then again Cas had been watching over the earth for centuries what was Dean to that? Meeting Cas had been the high point of Dean’s life. Cas had probably already forgotten Dean. He was an ant. A blip. He probably wouldn’t give Dean another thought while Dean would never know what had happened. 

Maybe his brothers had come back? It was a long shot but…

Dean rubbed at his eyes so hard colours exploded behind them.

At least it solved the problem of what to do about his feelings for Cas.

Nothing.

He’d do nothing.

He was nothing. 

He heard the front door open and close followed by hurried footsteps up the stairs. Probably Sam, Dean figured. Sam wondering who the hell Cas was and why Dean had run out so suddenly. If he hadn’t gone out would Cas have still been there? 

“Dean?” Cas’ familiar, gravelly voice called and Dean almost fell off the couch. 

_ “Cas?” _

Cas looked like he was about to cry, assuming angels even did such a thing. “I went for a walk,” Cas murmured, “But I- are you alright?” 

Dean was frozen. He managed to look him over and confirm that yes, this was Cas and he looked okay. He wasn’t hurt. He was actually here and Dean felt like he would pass out from relief. 

“Yeah, I’m...I’m just tired,” Dean said weakly, not wanting to admit that he’d been on the verge of a breakdown just because Cas had gone for a walk. 

_ A walk. _

“It is late,” Cas said but he looked like he wanted to say something more. 

Dean wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear everything Cas had to say.

“I...I’m gonna go to bed,” he muttered. “Unless...unless you’re leaving?” 

Cas looked positively alarmed at the prospect. 

“No...I...I was going to stay here…” he hesitated. Neither of them could look at each other. “If that’s okay?” 

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean breathed. There was that relief again. “Yeah, look that’s fine, I’m just gonna-” he gestured to the door and managed to avoid Cas’ eye as he brushed past him. He closed the bedroom door behind him and leaned back against the wood, screwing his eyes shut tight. 

He didn’t  _ like _ Cas.

The guy had gone for a walk and Dean had freaked out thinking he’d gone forever and wouldn’t even think about him again. 

He was  _ in love _ with Cas. 

What the hell did he do with that?

* * *

There was some small comfort to be found in routine. 

Castiel had never had a routine before. Not even in Heaven before he had begun his watch. Angels did not mark the passage of time. Not in the way humans did at least. There had been no days to break down into smaller increments but Castiel had learned that there was some comfort in it, especially since he had apparently discovered the need for sleep even if he didn’t quite understand why. 

For a long time Castiel stared at the door that Dean had closed behind him. Just a week ago Castiel could have stood on that spot all night and barely notice the passage of the hours until Dean stepped back out with the morning light. But now his legs were uncomfortable from standing on one spot, his back ached, and he struggled to get his breathing under control. He wanted to call out to Dean and ask for help but he wasn’t entirely sure what was happening to him and he didn’t want to worry Dean who had already looked worried enough that Castiel had gone for a walk. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to. 

But there was the routine. And the repetitive motions should be enough to calm himself down. Castiel was an angel. He’d never panicked before. He shouldn’t be panicking now. He-

Was going to stop letting this episode, whatever it was, run away with him and focus instead on the comfort of routine. 

He took off the trench coat and hung it in the hallway next he took the clothes Dean had leant him to sleep in into the bathroom. He urinated (which was also an increasingly worrisome development), carefully folded his suit and stepped into the soft, worn cotton of Dean’s boxer shorts and faded t-shirt. He brushed his teeth using the toothpaste that Dean had bought especially for him when they discovered that Dean’s regular toothpaste had too strong a taste for Castiel. He remembered to spit this time and swilled mouthwash around his mouth. He remembered to spit that out too. 

His feet padding softly on the carpet, Castiel paused outside Dean’s door wondering whether or not he should knock. Dean had seemed agitated earlier and Castiel wanted to apologise even though he didn’t quite know what it was that he was apologising for. So he carried on to the lounge, placed the suit in the drawer that Dean had cleared out for him and settled himself on the couch, pulling the blanket up to his chin to try to relax. 

Castiel took a deep breath, allowing it to fill every part of him, superficially at least, and exhaled. He had seen several scenarios in the movies Dean had shown him where the humans had utilised such techniques to recentre themselves when they were overwhelmed. 

Castiel was most definitely overwhelmed. 

He had thought the walk would clear his head and settle the unruly thoughts that led him back to Dean. Always Dean. Instead, he’d ended up comparing the bright spark that was Dean’s soul to everyone who passed him. They were beautiful too, of course, but Dean’s soul was breathtaking to behold. It had been forged in pain and emerged burning with kindness. 

He’d been so preoccupied with his thoughts that he’d lost his way. Castiel, Angel of the Lord, who had found his way to Dean’s coffee shop from the smell of the clouds and the taste of the sunlight had gotten lost. It had been an alarming experience to say the least. If his thoughts had been distracting before it was nothing compared to the sudden panic that he didn’t know where he was. And that itself had been nothing compared to the spike of anguish that hit him when Castiel thought he might not be able to find Dean again. 

It had been a ridiculous notion, one that had passed relatively quickly when he’d just took a moment to calm down and asked directions from a helpful stranger. He was but two streets from the coffee shop. 

The moment had passed. He was home now. He was wrapped in a cocoon of warmth, surrounded by light vanilla tones on the air that declared that Dean was nearby. He had looked pained to have seen Castiel and that thought alone was concerning but it could wait for the moment. Castiel shifted himself deeper into the couch and focused instead on Dean’s presence.

Dean put Castiel at ease in ways that surely a human should not have been able to. He had seen Castiel at his lowest with his grace screaming out into the world around them and instead of turning away in disgust, he had wrapped his arms around him and welcomed him into his life… This was the train of thought that had led him to panic outside but it seemed safer now that Castiel was home. 

He had been thinking on the beauty of Dean’s soul which in turn had him thinking on the wonder of Dean’s mind. His easy friendship, his gentle spirit, the way he could make Castiel laugh and make him feel welcome with an open smile and casual touches. But this last day or so…

Castiel wasn’t sure how he could even explain it to himself. He had tried to and gotten somewhere before he’d lost all sense of himself earlier. He could try again now in the warmth and safety of Dean’s fluffiest blanket. 

It was a hard thing for an angel to admit given that they were beyond such concerns but… recently...the allure of Dean’s body had become more enchanting than the warmth of his soul. 

Dean was intriguing. Castiel had seen him in various stages of undress over the week and yet he found himself tantalised at peeks of skin when Dean reached for something and his shirt rode up to show a glimpse of his abdomen. He’d been mesmerised by the shape of Dean’s legs as he wondered…

Well...what did he wonder?

Castiel wasn’t entirely sure. It was shapeless in his mind but it gave rise to a heat in parts of himself he’d never had to consider before he came to earth. Before he met Dean. But increasingly he’d found himself watching Doctor Sexy with added interest. He had seen humans exchanging contact to varying degrees and wondered if Dean would like to be touched like that. Would Dean prefer soft kisses or hard? Would Dean lean into gentle touches or rough? 

It was worse when he found himself re-watching the adventures of the babysitter and the pizza delivery man. His chest felt tight and his hips would rock almost without his permission but the friction felt delicious in a way he couldn’t place. A way he shouldn’t have even considered as an angel. But these days between eating, sleeping and urinating Castiel didn’t feel much like an angel anymore. 

Speaking of. 

He needed to urinate. Again. 

More than anything, Castiel begrudged having to leave the warmth of the couch and his blanket to attend to bodily functions that should not affect him. He knew he’d have to address it eventually. This shouldn’t be happening but then much of his life as he knew it shouldn’t be happening. 

He should be in Heaven with his brothers. 

But if that were the case then he wouldn’t be with Dean and he couldn’t rightly say that he didn’t prefer the latter. 

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He hadn’t considered his human form before. It was simply the dressing required to blend into the world. Was he attractive? He had nothing to judge it on. Castiel ran a hand through his hair noting that it did nothing to smooth its wildness at all. Did Dean like his hair? Did Dean consider him at all? Occasionally, he would catch Dean looking at him...did he enjoy the sight? But then he had presented as a man, though as an angel he was arguably neither. Perhaps Dean would have preferred a female form? Perhaps Dean preferred neither. 

Even if he did have a preference, his tastes might not have run to ‘Castiel’ however much Castiel yearned to hear Dean whisper his name in the way he’d only seen in his dreams. There was that heat again. The incessant tug pooling deep within him. He scrubbed a hand over his face and forced himself to ignore it. 

Maybe he could talk to Dean about it in the morning. 

But when Castiel woke, Dean wasn’t in the apartment. The door to his bedroom was open and his bed recently made. The shower had been used and the coffee maker made ready so he’d obviously managed to conduct his morning routine without waking Castiel. Castiel couldn’t help but frown. 

Why hadn’t Dean woken him? 

A glance at the clock told him that Dean would be downstairs preparing the morning bakes and Cas was already half an hour late to help him prepare the fillings. 

Puzzled, Castiel dressed quickly. As he’d expected to, he found Dean in the back room of the coffee shop. He was working in silence which was unusual in itself. The pie fillings were already bubbling away comfortably on the stove though Castiel could tell from smell alone that Dean hadn’t added enough sugar to the apple. Dean himself was rolling out the dough for the pie crusts but he seemed to be doing it with an aggression Castiel had never seen before. He slammed the dough onto the surface sending particles of flour flying through the air as he all but drove his fist into it over and over before lifting it to slam it again. 

Castiel had never seen him like this. Was Dean angry? He’d been distressed the night before...had Castiel done something?

“Dean?” he asked and Dean’s fingers froze against the dough. 

He didn’t look up and it seemed far too long before he replied. “Hey, Cas.” 

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Dean bit out, returning to his aggressive handling of the dough even though it had been thoroughly kneaded and barely required that for a pie crust. 

Dean still didn’t look at him. 

“You didn’t wake me up.”

Dean only grunted in response. So Castiel moved to the stove and started adding sugar to the apple only for Dean to call over, “Stop. You...you don’t have to do that.”

Castiel felt his heart sink which was impressive given that it was debatable whether he had a heart to sink. But there was no denying the nervousness that rose within him, the tremor in his fingers, the tightness of his throat. He stood next to Dean but Dean deliberately kept his eyes on the surface before him and pointedly ignored Castiel. 

Castiel sighed. He didn’t understand the nuances of human communication but he understood this. 

“You want me to leave,” he said, quietly. 

Dean froze again. “What?”

“You want me to leave,” Castiel said again. “I understand. I have already presumed too much on your hospitality. You were never obliged to do any of the things you have done for me, I am grateful Dean and I’m sorry I pushed our friendship beyond its limits.” 

Finally, Dean looked up at him, his eyes wide and so beautifully green. “Our...friendship?” he repeated and Castiel felt his shoulders sag. 

“Oh...my apologies again, I thought…” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll gather my things and leave you in-”

“Wait, no, Cas, wait!” Dean snapped, wiping flour over his shirt in a pointless attempt to get his hands at least a little clean. “Cas, I...I don’t want you to go.”

“Oh.” 

He should have been relieved but Castiel couldn’t help but wonder what was going on if Dean didn’t want him to leave after all. 

“I…” Dean looked uncomfortable, as though the act of speaking was painful to him. “Actually, I want you to stay.”

Castiel frowned. “I would be quite happy to stay-” but Dean was already shaking his head. 

“No...Cas. You don’t understand. I...I want you to stay. Here. With me.”

His lip curled against his teeth as he bit into it, looking at Castiel nervously but still Castiel didn’t understand. He would be happy to stay with Dean and he had said so. 

“Okay.” 

It was apparently the wrong answer. Dean gave an exasperated sigh and looked somehow devastated. “ _No_ ,” he said, lacing the word with meaning Castiel could not discern. “I-”

“Dean?” Castiel offered, quietly. “I obviously don’t understand what you’re getting at. Please just tell me outright.”

Dean scoffed, dropping his gaze again. “You don’t want that Cas. You’ll hate me.”

Castiel felt a stab of alarm at the prospect that Dean could think so little of himself. He reached out to him, his hand warm against Dean’s arm as he tried to catch his eye. 

“Dean. There is nothing you can say that could ever make me hate you.” 

Dean looked him in the eye, still gnawing at his lip as he visibly weighed up whether he actually believed him. Castiel tried to look encouraging. He may not know much about human communication but he could still pinpoint the moment Dean decided to cast off his hesitation and just come out with it. 

He took Castiel’s hand from his arm and held it in his own. His other hand reached for Castiel’s cheek as he cupped his face. Castiel tried to keep his breathing level even though this was everything he’d been imagining not twelve hours earlier. 

“I want you to stay, Cas. With me,” he whispered, closing the distance between them.

Then his lips were on Castiel’s, soft and tentative and Castiel understood. 


	7. Chapter 7

Dean hadn't expected Cas to kiss him back. He wasn't entirely sure what it was that he had expected Cas to do but kiss him back was not on the list. It didn't even make the list of things that might potentially make the list. 

It was something delicate to have Cas' lips move against his. Tentative. Exploratory. Cas' hand came up to cup Dean's face and warmth swelled within him as he had never felt before. Dean smiled against Cas' lips and pressed their foreheads together. 

Cas' eyes bore into his, bright and intense. And then Dean felt Cas' fingers curl around his collar. His feet must have left the floor briefly as Cas spun them around, pushing Dean against the wall. Dean thought that they'd been kissing before but that was nothing compared to the way Cas took his lips apart now. 

Nobody had ever kissed Dean like this before. Cas plundered his mouth, giving and taking in equal measure. Dean could truly believe that Cas was an angel; he didn't just feel it where their lips pressed, he could feel it thrumming through every part of his being. He felt redeemed. Absolved from sins he hadn't even committed yet which couldn't hold a candle to the sins Cas was committing with his tongue. 

Even though he'd only heard it once before, Dean recognised the sound of Cas' wings unfurling. He should have been overwhelmed but he couldn't be, not when Cas' touch was so firm on his chest. 

When they broke apart Dean all but gasped down air, disappointed to see that Cas' wings were nowhere in sight. Cas looked almost embarrassed and Dean couldn't quite believe what had happened. 

"What was that?" he managed to breathe. 

A faint blush crept into Cas' cheeks. "I learned that from the pizza man," he admitted. 

They caught each other's eye and started laughing. 

Dean practically fell forward, throwing his arms around Cas, wanting to feel him solid against him. Cas' arms were firm around him and it seemed ludicrous that they had never really done this before. That Dean had been pummelling pastry because his feelings were entirely too much and now Cas was kissing his neck and-

There was movement on the other side of the room. Dean clocked it from the corner of his eye. He pulled back from Cas almost harshly and looked up into the wide eyes of his brother. 

“Oh...hey...Sam,” Dean mumbled. His arms were still around Cas but there was no point pulling back. He’d seen...well...who knows what he’d seen. From the utterly horrified look on his face he’d obviously seen...something. “What are you doing here?” he asked, managing to stave off the inevitable for at least a few moments while he tried to figure out how Sam had even gotten in. 

“I was- You were-  _ What the hell, Dean?! _ ” Sam hissed looking at Cas in nothing short of terror. 

Slowly, Dean disentangled himself from Cas’ arms. If his brother was about to disown him he wanted to be able to come back to their warmth later. 

“I’ll..be back in a minute,” Dean said to Cas. “Watch the fillings?” 

Cas nodded and watched Dean go. Dean could feel his eyes on him and that’s all he could feel as he turned Sam around and took them both out front. His whole body felt strangely numb. Cold numb. As though he’d stepped into an ice bath and feeling hadn’t yet returned to him. Dean could feel his heart beating in his chest but it seemed slow and heavy. But there was also a hint of relief. 

Sam knew now. 

Sam dropped down into one of the chairs and ran his hands through his excessive hair. 

Okay. So. This was happening. 

Dean didn’t know whether to sit opposite his brother or not. He should probably sit down. Or would Sam want the space? Dimly, Dean thought that this might well be the last time he ever sat down with Sam but he forced himself to breathe.

Sam wasn’t like that. Right? 

“So...uh...I guess I’ve got some explaining to do.”

Sam glared at him. “You think?!”

Dean took a breath. And another. 

“Okay so...uh...Cas is a guy and I’m...kind of...into that. Women too,” he stuttered. “But...yeah...I sort of like guys as well.” 

Sam stared at him for what could only have been a few seconds but it felt like much longer. His face went through several reactions before it settled on incredulous and he pinched the bridge of his nose as though staving off a headache. 

“What the hell is he?”

Dean shifted uncomfortably. “Well...I mean, we haven’t talked about it yet, but I guess I was hoping he’d be my boyfriend at least…”

“ _ He had wings, Dean! _ ” Sam hissed. “I saw...I saw wings. He was kissing you and then... _ wings. _ ”

“Oh…” Dean mumbled. “Oh yeah, so...he’s kind of an angel.” 

Sam rolled his eyes and was about to say something but Dean preempted it. 

“Not an  _ angel _ like he’s all dreamy and stuff...like...he’s an actual angel. From Heaven. He’s got a halo and a harp-  _ a lyre _ ... It’s a...long story I guess.” 

Sam sighed, long and hard. “Dean. I think you need to make us some coffee.” 

It took two shots of espresso before Sam gave up on the whole idea of coffee making anything better and heading for the whiskey he knew Dean kept in the back of a cupboard. Dean was on the verge of telling his brother that it wasn’t even 9AM yet before he realised that Sam knew. Sam didn’t care. 

It took several hearty glugs before Sam was willing to entertain the conversation again. 

Eventually he calmed down.

Eventually. 

“So...what..? He’s an angel but he’s not going home so he’s been staying with you and now the two of you are... _ a thing? _ ” Sam asked, looking at his brother as though he couldn’t quite believe the words that had come from his own mouth. 

“Uh yeah...pretty much.” Dean mumbled. This really wasn’t where he thought the conversation was going to go either. 

Sam took a breath. “Right. Okay. Well...I’m glad you’re happy, I guess? I might not tell Eileen about the whole...angel...thing. If that’s okay.” 

Dean snorted. “Yeah, kinda keeping it quiet myself.” 

“Right…” 

The silence stretched out awkwardly between them. There was more to say, much more, that wasn’t related to any of the angel business but now that Sam had calmed down, Dean didn’t really want to bring it up.

“So…” he started, regretting it immediately when Sam looked up at him. It was harder when Sam’s eyes were on him. “I should tell you-” 

But Sam held his hand up and quietly said, “You don’t have to...I sorta already knew.” 

Not that Dean wasn’t grateful to not have to actually say the words but he  _ what? _ He already knew? Dean hadn’t gone through all these years of hiding himself and worrying about what Sam might think for Sam to have already known. 

“ _ You knew? _ ” 

Sam raised his hands up defensively. “Well I didn’t know for sure. I’m just not surprised, you know?” Dean didn’t feel any less exasperated so he sighed and continued. “I just mean...I’ve got eyes. And I saw the way you used to look at Swayze and Doctor Sexy  _ and _ that wrestling guy you really liked.” He shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat. “I heard dad too...one time,” he added, his voice lower than it needed to be. 

Dean’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Oh.”

“He was wrong though,” Sam said, fiercely, his tone alone forcing Dean to meet his eyes. “It doesn’t matter who you’re with or who you like. It’s never mattered. What matters is you’re happy, Dean, and if that’s with Cas, then I’m happy for you. If it’s not then...well, hey, any girl or guy would be lucky to have you, Dean. Seriously.”

“Alright, alright,” Dean muttered, bowing his head so that Sam couldn’t see the flush in his cheeks. He reached over and patted his brother’s knee affectionately, the closest he wanted to get to a hug right now. 

He didn't want to think too hard about how he was feeling. The back of Dean's eyes burned, his chest felt tight and even though he'd always known Sam wouldn't have an issue with it…there had always been the voice that said he'd lose his brother over this. The voice that sounded suspiciously like John Winchester. The voice that told him he was worthless, that he-

_ Nope _ . 

Dean forced himself to breathe. He wasn't about to get caught up in this spiral. Not when Sam was beside him and knew everything now and it hadn't changed anything. 

Well… That wasn't strictly true. 

Dean looked up and caught Sam's eye. Sam smiled at him and Dean smiled back. Warmth filled him, probably relief, and he sighed, feeling the weight of the heaviest secret he'd ever kept leave him. 

"It's okay, Dean." Sam said again. "You're still my brother and I love you."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean mumbled, batting Sam's hand away before he could draw him into a hug. Sam let his hand drop but Dean regretted it and reached for him anyway. It was kind of hard to hug his brother over the coffee table but Sam's ridiculous limbs made up for it. 

They settled back into their seats a little awkwardly and Dean regretted not having a coffee of his own just so that he'd have something to occupy his hands with. 

"So…an angel, huh?" Sam said, clearly still unable to believe what he'd said. 

Dean snorted and rubbed a hand over his face because… Well…  _ Yeah _ . 

There was an awkward cough from the other side of the shop and both Dean and Sam looked up to see Cas peering over at them, almost nervously. 

"The… Um… The pies are ready," he called. 

Dean couldn't help but laugh at the way Sam looked at Cas. Cas who was an angel but also anxious over potentially over-baking an apple pie. 

"I'll be right there, Cas," Dean waved. Cas nodded and ducked quickly into the back room. "You wanna come meet him?" Dean asked but Sam shook his head looking momentarily terrified. Though it looked more like the kind of ‘I’m about to be embarrassed by my big brother’ terrified than ‘what the hell do you mean angels exist and you’re dating one?’ 

"No, no, I should be getting back. I only came to see if you were okay after last night. Besides, you guys were in the middle of something," Sam said with a smugness that could only be observed in a younger brother. In a way Dean was comforted by it. He'd come out  _ and _ was dating an angel and all Sam could do was tease him. 

It all really was okay. 

"So uh…call me later?" Sam grinned. "We'll have you guys over for dinner or something," he stopped himself suddenly. "Does he eat?" 

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yes, he eats. Go on, get out of here."

"Alright, I'm going. I'm going."

But before he did, Sam pulled him into another tight hug. It lasted a little longer than it would have normally and Dean leaned into it more than he ever had. Neither of them said anything but then neither of them really had to. 

Sam patted him on the back and with a final reassuring squeeze to Dean's shoulder, he headed for the door. 

"Catch you later," Sam called back with a smile. Dean couldn't help but smile back. He felt happier than he could remember being. Even at his happiest  _ this _ had always loomed over him. The knowledge that Sam was only ever a boyfriend away from walking out of Dean's life. 

Or not. 

Speaking of boyfriend… 

Cas hadn't just watched the fillings while Dean had been having his chick flick moment with Sam. He'd finished with the fillings, rolled out the crusts and baked the lot of them. 

"Wow… Cas! You really went all out," Dean said as he checked all the pies. They were all there ready for the day. "Thanks."

Cas flushed under the praise. “Is...everything okay with your brother?” 

Dean huffed a sigh of relief. “Yeah. Yeah, Cas. It really is.” 

Cas shifted nervously. “And is everything okay...between us?”

“What do you mean?” Dean frowned, taking his hand in a gesture that he would have been entirely too afraid to do just that morning but Cas had taken him apart against a wall since then, so there were a lot of things he wasn’t afraid to do anymore. “I meant what I said, Cas. I really do want you to stay.” 

“Oh,” Cas breathed, smiling. “Can I kiss you again?” He asked, hopefully. 

Dean chuckled. “Yes, Cas. Absolutely.” 

Cas didn’t waste any time in crossing the distance between them, and hell- the pies for the day had already been made so it wasn’t like Dean had anything left to do. 

Their fingers were tangled in each other’s hair, Cas practically sitting on one of the counters with Dean slotted between his legs, flush against his chest. They could have stayed there all day and they might well have but then there was a familiar shout from the front of the store. 

“Hey, Dean! Forgot my-” But whatever Charlie had forgotten the night before, Dean never found out. Instead she stopped dead in the doorway as Sam had, her face froze for a split second and then she screamed. Long and shrill before she practically threw herself at them shouting, “You guys! Tell me everything!”

* * *

Contrary to what Castiel had learned from Doctor Sexy and pornography, now that he and Dean had declared their intentions, they did not fall immediately into violent love-making. 

But even though they might not have torn their clothes off and retreated to Dean's bedroom, everything had changed. 

Dean touched Castiel as much as he ever had but now there was so much more meaning behind it. His touches lingered and Castiel leaned into them. There were passing kisses on the cheek, the shoulder, the forehead whenever Dean had cause to move around Castiel which he seemed to be doing more than he'd ever needed to before. 

Castiel didn’t mind.

He worked the register, as usual, while Dean moved around him to make the coffee. They were quiet in a way they hadn’t been before. Comfortable in a way that felt entirely new but entirely natural. 

“What do we do now?” Castiel asked during a lull in the steady stream of customers. “You must be patient with me. I have little knowledge of human relationships.”

Dean snorted with something that sounded like amusement. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly the poster boy for  _ human relationships _ but we can figure it out together.” 

‘ _ Figuring it out together _ ’ turned out to be one of the most rewarding experiences of Castiel’s incredibly long life.

The concept was apparently called  _ ‘dating’ _ . Dean said it was what humans did to get to know each other after they’d declared an interest in the other. Though granted, as a general rule, Castiel discovered said humans didn’t also live and work together. Not that Castiel ever thought he would tire of Dean’s company. 

There were breakfast dates where the two of them would sit on stools and discover the daily specials together. Castiel discovered that pairing bacon with maple syrup was possibly one of the most delicious combinations humans had come up with but Dean assured him it was just the beginning. 

They watched movies on huge screens which was one of Castiel’s favourite things to do. The human capacity to create stories were fascinating and the larger screen seemed to grant them a gravitas they lacked on Dean’s television. That said, Castiel preferred Dean’s home, for that allowed him greater freedom to lie against Dean while they watched them. Not that they didn’t lean into each other at the theatre but the arm of the chair inevitably separated them. 

They went for walks together. They baked and cooked together, moving around each other in Dean’s small kitchen in such a way that they were always coming into contact. 

Dean drove scenic routes near his home though they spent less time exploring the greenery than they did exploring each other in the backseat of Dean’s car. They were, as Dean had put it, ‘taking it slow’. Castiel wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but it seemed to mean that they were enjoying each other without going as far as copulation. 

Not that Castiel was in a particular hurry to do so. Most of the time at least. When Dean’s lips were hot against his, his touch scalding where it landed even though the most they had done was toss aside the shirts they wore to get closer to each other, at those times Castiel could feel himself burning for something. He wasn’t sure what it was but he wanted something that could only be expressed through whimpered moans and the vague but persistent call of  _ ‘more’ _ . As an angel, such physical pleasures should have been beyond him but Castiel was increasingly aware, with every passing day, that he was becoming something less than an angel. 

He was not as scared as he might have been. It should have been terrifying but with Dean beside him, Castiel had been lulled into thinking that everything would work itself out even though he had nothing upon which to base such senseless optimism. He needed to sleep now. It wasn’t just a passing fancy that came upon him after a couple of days; he actually needed to sleep. His stomach yearned for food when he hadn’t eaten for a while and his need to urinate had only increased. 

And then one morning he had decided to treat Dean to those delicious strawberry pastries Castiel had found from a boulangerie in Chinon but found that he could not summon his wings. To his surprise...he wasn’t surprised. He tried a second time and a third but he didn’t become desperate. Instead, Castiel viewed it with curious detachment and little more than a quiet, ‘ _ ah _ ’ of resignation. 

He could still feel them. If he stretched out he could feel them flex with the movement but they were no longer strong enough to carry him. Castiel moved to the sofa and sat down carefully. 

Castiel was human. 

Or at least, something closer to human than to an angel. He wasn’t sure of the specifics. He might never be sure of them, it wasn’t as though he could just ask his brothers. If an angel had ever suffered this before then Castiel had not known of it. But on some level he had known this was coming. He had known from that first morning where he’d woken up in Dean’s arms. No amount of tears could have rendered an angel unconscious. 

Castiel turned his hands over and over in his lap. It was strange how his mind fixated on something that was probably the least of his problems. Would Dean still want him around? The question of his entire existence had changed and yet he found himself more anxious that Dean might not be interested in him anymore than his apparent fall from the Host. If he were an angel he would chastise himself for worrying over something so tiny. Perhaps it was because he was practically human that it didn’t seem so tiny. It was all encompassing. 

“Cas?” he heard Dean mumble sleepily from somewhere behind him. “Hey, Cas...you okay?” 

The couch dipped under Dean’s weight as he sat down beside Castiel. 

Castiel didn’t look up. Dean’s hand reached into Castiel’s lap and their fingers linked. “Angel?”

Castiel sighed. “No. Not that.” 

He felt rather than saw Dean’s frown. Dean wiped his eyes tiredly and mumbled something that made Castiel feel a little guilty for being so indirect. Dean had been so good to him. He shouldn’t drag this out. 

“I don’t think I’m an angel anymore Dean. I’ve been becoming more and more human since I arrived here and now…”

“ _ Oh Cas _ ,” Dean breathed. His hand tightened around Castiel’s and he leaned in, no longer even a little bit tired. “Are you okay?” 

Castiel gave a small shrug, an entirely human gesture. He wasn’t sure how he could even begin to answer that. Did he even have the capacity to answer it? 

“You’re not surprised?” Castiel said but it was more an observation really. 

Dean flushed a little. “Well...I mean...you’ve hardly been using your mojo recently...that and the sleeping and the eating…”

“Oh.” Castiel couldn’t really be surprised given that he’d come to the same conclusion. 

Dean wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. “I’m not going to pretend I know what’s going on, so I won’t say it’ll be okay. But...I’m here for you, okay? I can say that much.” 

Castiel looked up and met Dean’s gaze as they rested their foreheads against each other. It felt as intimate as a kiss. “I won’t be your angel anymore,” he said sadly. 

Dean cupped his face and leaned in for the gentlest of kisses. “Cas, you’ll always be my angel whether you’ve got a harp or not.” 

“Lyre, Dean.” Castiel said, quietly. “It’s a lyre.”

Dean smiled at him and it was enough to obliterate any thoughts of abandonment Castiel might have had. Dean still wanted him to stay. 

“I won’t be able to bring you things like I did…” Castiel said as though it were simply an issue of Dean not thinking it through. “I can’t just take you anywhere you want to go. There was so much of the world I might have shown you…” 

Dean leaned in and silenced him with another kiss. “Hey, Cas. I never cared about any of that. I don’t even like flying. And some of those fancy cakes you found were pretty nice but you know that’s not why I asked you to stay, right? I like  _ you _ . Not because you’re an angel. I like you for who  _ you _ are not what you are.” 

If he was an angel the words of a human would have made little difference. And yet, Castiel couldn’t help but think that Dean’s words would always have mattered. For someone who spoke so poorly of himself, Dean was very wise.

“We’ll figure it out, Cas.” 

_ Cas _ .

Dean had been calling him ‘Cas’ since the first day of their meeting. Castiel, like so many of his brothers and sisters, had been named in honour of the Father. 

Gabriel. Raziel. Zadkiel. Nathaniel. Jophiel.  _ Castiel _ . 

But now he was not of them. He was so far from them even demons could claim closer kinship to Heaven than he could. After all, some of them had once been angels themselves. Castiel-  _ Cas _ wasn’t even sure what he was. But Dean was beside him. Dean was holding him tight and whispering soothing words under his breath.

“I got you, Cas. I got you.”

Cas smiled and leaned into the embrace, closing his eyes against Dean’s warmth as he breathed in comfort. He wasn’t sure what he was but to Dean he would always be Cas. For now that would be enough.


	8. Chapter 8

Not for the first time, Dean woke up to find Cas curled around him. They’d fallen asleep on the sofa.  _ Again _ . The television was still on low in the background. Whatever they’d been watching had given way to a peppy blonde and her co-host talking about what the morning held for everyone tuning in. 

It was too quiet for Dean to make out individual words but he let the hum wash over him as he gently mussed Cas’ hair with his fingers. He stroked his face, taking care to appreciate the stubble that had grown overnight. Cas had never had to worry about such things as an angel but Dean thought it made him look even hotter, if such a thing were possible. Cas was warm and solid against him. Dean didn’t want to disturb him but it was inevitable as he stretched slightly beneath him. He couldn’t stop the grunt of discomfort that escaped him however much he might have wanted to. Inevitably, Cas shifted beside him.

“We gotta stop falling asleep on the couch,” Dean grumbled. 

Cas’ neck clicked in agreement. “Hm.” Cas pressed his lips to the line of Dean’s jaw. “Is your bed large enough for the two of us?” he asked, his voice innocent even though Dean knew that Cas knew it was. The only reason they hadn’t fallen into it together was because Cas tended to fall asleep at the most inopportune moments. He could be forgiven though. It wasn’t as if he’d ever had to consider the limitations of his body before. It had taken a few days for the guy to realise that he could sleep on a schedule. Plus, a lot could be forgiven when he insisted on kissing Dean the way he did, even though he hadn’t opened his eyes yet. 

He pressed his body against Dean, drawing him in and moving his lips to brush against Dean’s. Dean moaned into the contact, cupping Cas’ face so he could deepen the kiss. Cas rocked his hips up in an open invitation which of course was when Dean’s phone started ringing. 

“Every time,” Cas groaned, reluctantly releasing Dean so he could answer it. “Make us some coffee while you’re up?” he added, rolling into the couch to get comfortable. 

Dean couldn’t help but laugh even as he slipped from the couch and picked up the phone. He rolled his eyes when he saw it was Sam. 

“Seriously? You couldn’t just text me?” he grumbled. 

He really could have sent a text. He was just calling to confirm that they were still meeting up and  _ yes _ , Dean would remember to bring the coat Sam had left in the shop a couple of days ago. From the way Sam sounded a little smug it was clear he’d called with the express intent of interrupting something which was a dangerous war to start in Dean’s eyes. 

Not that Dean could stay mad. Not when Cas looked so soft and inviting on the sofa, his hand reaching blindly for coffee Dean hadn’t made yet. 

“Dean! Coffee!” he mumbled as Dean laughed into the phone. 

How was this his life? 

A few weeks ago Castiel had been distant and impossible. An angel beyond anything Dean could comprehend however much he had tried. Now that same angel was far less remote. Instead, he was tucking himself under a blanket, burrowing into it while cursing the necessity of having to wake up. He muttered under his breath as though the day had personally insulted him by beginning. Given that until a few weeks ago Cas hadn't needed to sleep, it was the gift that kept on giving to see him unable to function until his second cup of coffee. 

Once he’d his second cup though, he made himself useful. 

They were going on a picnic with Sam and Eileen. It would not be the first time Cas was meeting Sam. It wouldn’t even be the first time he’d be meeting Eileen; both of them were regulars in Dean’s shop and once Sam had gotten his head around the whole ‘angel’ thing he and Cas had gotten along. Eileen too. But Dean was still nervous. He shouldn’t be but then he’d never taken a guy to meet his family before and he definitely wasn’t overthinking it. 

There was a weight on Dean’s chest, pressing down, almost suffocating him. He knew it would be fine.  _ It was fine _ . Sam and Eileen liked Cas. Cas liked them. There was no reason that this wasn’t going to be anything less than  _ fine _ . So why couldn’t he stop worrying about it? And why was John Winchester’s voice never too far away at times like this when the most considerate thing the guy had ever done for his kids was drink himself to death. 

Ironically, the weight lifted when they actually arrived and Sam waved them over. It was a good spot, shaded from the heat of the sun but close enough to the lake so they could go swimming if they wanted (which they all absolutely did) and when Cas got close enough, Sam jumped up and hugged him first. Relief flooded through Dean even though really, what had he expected? He knew it was ridiculous but he couldn’t help where his mind went. When it was his turn to be hugged, Dean went willingly and held on a little tighter. Sam probably sensed his nerves which accounted for the pat on the back and the fact that the embrace lasted a little longer than it would have normally. Dean released him and everything felt normal as his eyes fell on the hamper Sam had already started unpacking and his nose wrinkled at the bowl of something that was way too many shades of green for Dean’s liking. 

“Salad, Sam? You brought a salad?” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dean. I brought actual food. Let me guess... You brought M&Ms and beer?” 

Dean mumbled something under his breath when Cas unhelpfully supplied, “We brought chips too.” 

Sam looked a little too triumphant but didn’t dwell on it, choosing instead to get the rest of the food out which, Dean was happy to see, did actually include things that were edible. He could accept salad if it was on a sandwich and Sam had at least made up some decent looking sandwiches. Eileen passed him one over and mouthed, ‘ _ bacon _ ,’ with a wink as though she’d done something Sam wouldn’t approve of and Dean took it with a laugh.

Cas, the traitor that he was, loaded his plate up with salad first. 

It was fine. It was better than fine; it was  _ great _ .

Dean lay down on the blanket while Cas settled against his legs. They talked about normal things - what they were currently watching (Doctor Sexy - Sam had finally caved. Dean’s amusement was short-lived when Cas revealed they’d fallen asleep to a different nature documentary every night that week). What Sam had been up to in work (a custody dispute over a parakeet, two guinea pigs and an angel fish). What the weirdest order Dean had made up that week had been, (but Dean was more interested in the bird and the fish. Seriously, they hired a lawyer for that?)

They talked about not normal things too. Or at least not normal by Dean’s standards. Sam had loaned Cas a book of poetry after a conversation Dean was glad he’d missed, so naturally, they talked about that. Dean tried to keep his attention on what Eileen was saying to him but his eyes kept drifting to Cas; his blue eyes bright as he gratefully accepted all of Sam’s recommendations for future reading. 

What tension remained bled out of Dean. This wasn’t a trap. Sam wasn’t going to suddenly jump up and disown him. Sam thought Cas was great. Eileen thought Cas was great. They both really wanted Dean to be happy and if that was with Cas then...that was with Cas. 

And Dean  _ was happy _ . All he had to do was accept it. 

Dean adjusted his legs just to nudge Cas with them. Cas looked over at him and smiled even though he had a mouthful of greens. Dean didn’t care. He leaned up and kissed Cas on the cheek. In what was probably his biggest breakthrough yet, he didn’t immediately turn to see what Sam and Eileen made of it. Dean knew they didn’t mind. Sam was far more concerned that Eileen wanted Dean’s recommendations for what to watch after Doctor Sexy. 

“What can I say, Sam?” Dean grinned, “the lady’s got taste.” 

“Actually, Sam,” Cas interrupted, “when I asked Dean if he knew of any documentaries about bees he said you’d be the one to ask.” 

“‘Coz you’re both nerds,” Dean added quickly, before Sam thought that Dean might have been genuine in his suggestion.

Cas rolled his eyes. “Bees form an integral part of the ecosystem, Dean.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile at him, fondly. “Like I said.  _ Nerd _ . Anyone wanna swim?”

They all started stripping off to reveal their swimming gear beneath their clothes. Except Cas. He caught his lip between his teeth, chewing it almost nervously. “I think I’ll stay here for now.” 

“You sure?” Dean asked. Cas had admitted that he’d never been swimming before when they’d initially planned the day. Dean knew he was wearing trunks under his jeans just as Dean had been but he wasn’t in a rush to get in the water. 

He smiled at Dean, reassuringly. “I’m fine. I’ll join you later, maybe. I’m enjoying my salad,” Cas grinned, holding a forkful of leaves up to toast Dean. Dean rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Okay. I’ll be right back,” Dean said, leaning in for a kiss. Then another. And another, just because Cas’ lips were always so inviting even when the taste of grass lingered on them. 

Dean stood up and stretched, ready to slip easily into the water but then he caught Eileen’s eye and instead the two of them took off at a decent pace ignoring how cold the water was. As soon as the water was deep enough, Dean jumped just so he could splash Eileen. Naturally, she splashed him back.

It was practically a declaration of war. 

Not that there was a winner. The rules were vague, undefined and by the time Eileen and Dean were finished both of them were drenched but laughing. Eileen held her hands up, declaring a truce more than a victory before she rolled onto her back and allowed herself to float. Her chest heaved from the exertion of their play fight and Dean realised that he was out of breath too. 

He also realised that Sam hadn’t followed them into the water. Well...he’d started to but had gotten distracted talking to Cas. Dean was a breath away from calling out to them but he broke off when he got close enough to hear his name mentioned. He hadn’t meant to listen in but it wasn’t as though Sam and Cas were keeping their voices down. 

“I’ve never seen Dean so happy,” Sam smiled. “And you look happier every time I see you, Cas.” 

Dean grinned. He’d noticed it too. 

“Thank you, Sam. I was initially worried that I wouldn’t settle into life as a human but Dean has shown me happiness I couldn’t have imagined.”

Dean blushed. So did Sam. Even at a distance Dean could see the flush in his brother’s cheeks. 

“That’s great, Cas,” Sam beamed. “You sure you don’t want to go in? It’s not that cold once you get used to it.” 

Cas looked between the water and Sam. “I don’t know how.”

Sam didn’t seem bothered. “That’s okay. You don’t have to go deep enough to swim, you can just walk with me if you like?”

Dean didn’t hear Cas’ response but he must have agreed because a minute later he was stripping down to his trunks as the rest of them had and followed Sam into the water. He couldn’t hear their conversation over the water splashing under their feet but Sam said something that had Cas laughing and Dean couldn’t help but smile. Sam stumbled a little but Cas reached out and steadied him easily. 

It was all so casual, Dean felt like his heart was going to explode. He circled around them and quietly moved through the water so he could come up behind them. In his head, Dean hummed the theme to Mission Impossible so neither Sam or Cas heard him approach. They were too busy talking to each other to notice Dean until he jumped up behind them, covering them with the resulting wave. 

For a moment Cas looked terrified but then he saw that it was Dean and his face softened. For that, Dean just had to kiss him. Cas melted into the gesture and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, pulling him closer. Considering he’d never been in the water before, Cas figured pretty quickly that it wasn’t like being on land and he let the water take his weight so he could wrap his legs around Dean’s waist and bring them flush against each other. 

Dean forgot that Sam was somewhere beside them, that Eileen was around too, that they were in public. There was only Cas, warm against him. His body felt warmer than usual but that was probably just because of the cool water around them. Cas let his forehead rest against Dean’s and he sighed a sound that was unmistakably happy. 

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” Cas said, quietly. “I wasn’t sure what it meant to love someone but you should know that I love you with every ounce of my being.” 

In the distance Dean could hear Eileen laughing as Sam chased her through the water. There was wind in the trees and water lapping around them but Dean’s entire existence had focused on the warmth of Cas around him, the softness of lips that had just uttered words he had never even hoped to hear and of course;  _ blue _ .

He cupped Cas’ cheek tenderly with one hand, stroking away the strands of hair that had gathered in front of his eyes when Dean had splashed him. “I love  _ you _ , Cas,” he heard himself whisper because he wasn’t really aware of his lips moving. “I wasn’t sure if it’d mean anything to you...” 

“Everything, Dean.” Cas breathed. “It means  _ everything _ .” 

* * *

The declaration of his feelings had taken Castiel by surprise as much as it had Dean. He had seen such things on the television and read of such sentiments in the poetry Sam had introduced him to but he hadn’t expected to feel it for himself. But there had been that momentary panic in the water where he’d been taken by surprise; out of his element for the first time in...well... _ forever _ only for it to recede immediately when he saw Dean’s smiling face. He felt safe, safe in a way he had not thought to feel in this new existence he found himself in and he knew in that moment that he  _ did _ love Dean Winchester and he understood why animated adventures accompanied such moments with fireworks and fanfares. 

It had only been three words and yet everything had changed. The very air around them thrummed with promise and Dean seemed happier than Castiel had ever seen him. Even Sam and Eileen seemed aware of the change though they couldn’t have known the specifics. 

“I’m happy for you both,” Sam had whispered into Castiel’s ear when they said their goodbyes. He must have said something similar to Dean as they embraced for Dean flushed and tried to shake it off but Castiel could see he appreciated it. 

The drive home was quiet. Neither of them spoke. Dean drove and Castiel kept his hand on Dean’s thigh just because it was the easiest part of him he could reach and he couldn’t imagine not touching him right now. Every time Dean looked over, Castiel caught his eye and they exchanged small smiles as though they were privy to some great secret. Something only the two of them knew. 

Dean parked the car and the two of them walked back to the apartment hand in hand. Castiel was aware that the space between them was laden with anticipation but for what he couldn’t say. At least until they were indoors. Castiel hadn’t even moved to take his coat off when he suddenly found himself pressed firmly against the wall with Dean crowding him. Dean’s fingers were gentle in his hair as his lips ghosted over Castiel’s. 

“I  _ do _ love you, Cas,” Dean whispered as though his words in the lake might have been mistaken. 

Castiel felt like he would never tire of hearing the sentiment. “I love you too,” he said wondering if it was at all possible to convey the depth of his feelings. He slipped an arm around Dean’s back and pulled him close, covering Dean’s lips with his own. It wasn’t much but it was a start. 

They had kissed before, of course. They’d even kissed passionately but it had been nothing like this. Castiel’s coat slipped to the floor as Dean moved his hands under it and Castiel found his fingers moving to strip Dean of his shirt for no other reason than he wanted to feel his skin against his own. It seemed like a perfectly good reason. 

Dean’s shirt joined the other on the floor and their chests bumped together. Dean’s lips parted on a sigh at the first touch of flesh against flesh and Castiel found himself stealing it with his lips as Dean’s fingers found their way to Castiel’s hips, holding him in place so they could devour each other. 

“Bedroom,” Dean breathed and Castiel nodded his fervent agreement. He wanted to be wherever Dean was and it would probably be far more comfortable to kiss on the bed than against the wall, even if he had enjoyed being trapped beneath Dean’s body. 

They stumbled across the threshold of Dean’s bedroom, determined not to release each other’s lips for a second. Dean’s mouth was hot and insistent, his tongue begging Castiel for entry which Castiel was only too happy to grant, moaning into the kiss as Dean tasted his tongue for the first time. 

Castiel was hyper-aware of everything, he hadn’t expected humanity to feel  _ so much _ . But Dean’s lips were desperate against his, his fingers curled through Castiel’s hair while his other hand bruised his hip. Dean walked them backwards toward the bed and whenever his knee pressed against that spot between Castiel’s legs it was pure bliss. 

He knew what was happening of course. Sex. Intercourse. Love-making. It had many names but still, Castiel had not anticipated... _ this _ .

His legs bumped against the edge of the bed and down Castiel went, falling backwards onto the soft covers, sounding almost pained when Dean didn’t follow him. But Dean had dropped to his knees and started working Castiel’s belt off so he could start peeling his jeans from him. 

“Is this okay, Cas?” Dean asked, his voice breathier than Castiel had ever heard it and it gave him an undeniable thrill to know that somehow  _ he’d _ done that. He’d brought Dean to this point. “I don’t want to-”

“I want this,” Cas said, rocking his hips into Dean’s touch. “Dean, please. I _ want.. _ .” 

Dean’s mouth fell open and for a moment he looked as though he couldn’t quite believe what was happening. But then he recovered himself and started pulling what remained of Castiel’s clothes from him. “Sure, Cas. Okay…” he breathed, stripping himself of his pants and slotting their bodies against each other on the bed. 

His lips were everywhere. At Castiel’s mouth, his ear, his neck, his chest, working their way down across his naval, his hips, his legs. Castiel was so hard he could feel himself aching and when Dean’s lips pressed against his length for the first time, Castiel practically screamed at the touch. He threw himself back against the bed, trying to keep his hips steady as Dean kissed gentle kisses all the way to the tip. 

When Dean’s hand closed around Castiel, gentle yet firm, Castiel felt pleasure as he’d never known ignite through every inch of his body. Later, he would be thankful he wasn’t fully an angel for there was no way Dean could have survived the encounter if he was. Everything was far too much, too wonderful and all Castiel could do was moan and sigh as Dean worked his hand up and down, up and down, up and  _ twist- _

“Dean!” Castiel cried out but Dean was already leaning in to swallow the sound. 

Castiel could hear Dean fumbling with the drawer beside the bed, then there was a bottle of something and Dean’s hand was gone leaving Castiel bereft without his touch. 

“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean breathed, his chest already heaving even though they had barely started. When his hand returned, it was cooler, slick, but the motions were so much smoother now and Castiel all but felt his eyes roll back into his head. 

He propped himself up on his elbows so that he could watch Dean and he must have looked good doing it because Dean’s breath caught somewhere in his throat. Their eyes locked and Castiel had to remind himself to breathe. Dean was so beautiful, the expanse of his skin begged Castiel to touch it and he knew he’d have to explore every inch of it. But Dean’s eyes were caught somewhere between shocked and stunned but laced with something else. Something soft and beautiful. Adoration that would make even the Gods weep to behold. 

Castiel reached for Dean, curling his fingers around the nape of his neck and drawing him in. “Dean,” he whispered again and it sounded like a promise. 

“Cas…” Dean breathed, moving his lips over the line of Castiel’s jaw. 

Even as an angel Castiel had never been worshipped like this. 

Dean moved slowly but with purpose. He covered Castiel’s body with his own, lining them up carefully and Castiel might have been on the verge of asking what he was doing but then Dean brought their hardness to brush against each other and nothing that escaped Castiel’s lips could have passed for a question. 

Sounds Castiel had never had cause to utter filled the room as Dean set a firm and steady pace, working them between each other and his hand. Castiel could feel something building deep within him, spurred on by Dean’s relentless pace and the sounds they both made joining together. Castiel rocked his hips to meet Dean’s movement, almost losing his breath with every thrust. What grace remained within him seemed to bleed out of him; the room was bright in a way that only an angel could cause. Castiel didn’t care enough to stop and Dean clearly didn’t. Both of them were too far gone for that. 

Dean’s hand stuttered in its movements and on a strangled groan Castiel felt his release, hot where it landed on Castiel’s skin. Castiel heard himself cry out as he followed Dean over the edge, the tension that had gathered within him snapped. He heard his own ragged breathing as everything whited out for a moment, a small shockwave flew out from him causing the room to tremble momentarily as bliss settled into Castiel’s being. 

He dropped heavily back onto the pillows, taking Dean with him, neither of them cared for the mess they had made for each other. Castiel’s lips found Dean’s once again and they shared long, loving kisses even as they struggled to catch their breath.

“You...you okay?” Dean asked when he’d recovered the ability to speak. 

Castiel could only nod, his body still thrumming with the aftershocks of their pleasure. 

“Your eyes went a little...glowy,” Dean said for want of a better word. 

“Hm.” They settled against each other even though Castiel was aware of their need for a shower. It could wait. 

Everything could wait. 

“I think that was the last of my grace,” Castiel murmured. Dean looked up and even though his eyes were hazy with bliss, there was still a sharp edge of worry there. “It’s okay, Dean. But I think I am human now. Fully human,” Castiel added because he could feel in his bones that he was. 

And that was okay. 

Safe in Dean’s arms, everything was okay. 

“That was incredible,” Castiel sighed happily. 

Beside him, Dean shook a little as he laughed. “Believe me, that was nothing. We’re just getting started.” 

Castiel’s eyes widened in anticipation. Dean had no doubt referred to the prospect of spending their lives together and learning everything they could do to bring each other pleasure in that time. But Castiel no longer had eternity at his beck and call and it made him an impatient human. 

“Shower then round two?” he offered, already teasing at Dean’s neck with his lips but the sound of something smashing beyond the bedroom froze them both. 

“ _ Dammit! _ ” a voice cursed somewhere in the direction of the kitchen and Dean threw himself from the bed, grabbing a robe and somehow managing to slip it on without breaking his stride. 

“What the hell? Who the hell are you?!”

It took Castiel a few moments for his brain to catch up with the situation at hand and he grabbed for his shirt, wiping the mess from his stomach and throwing on a pair of boxer shorts. He didn’t bother with anything more than that as the sound of raised voices reached him. He wasn’t sure how an intruder could have entered but Castiel was not about to leave Dean to face him alone even if he could stand to have worn more clothes. 

He stumbled into the hallway where Dean was shouting at a smaller man that Castiel had never thought to recognise. 

“ _ Gabriel?! _ ” Castiel hissed, the sound cutting through whatever Dean had been saying. 

Both Dean and Gabriel froze, the latter turning to consider him before his face split into a wide grin. “Heya, Castiel!” he said with his usual lack of reverence. “How’re you doing?”

Dean looked between Castiel and the stranger. “You know him?” he asked.

Castiel couldn’t take his eyes off his brother. Even in human form he’d recognise him. Gabriel did not need six golden wings to make his presence known. Even in a form that was positively diminutive by Gabriel’s standards, Castiel could  _ feel _ his brother’s power.

“Dean, this is my brother. Gabriel.”

Gabriel turned to Dean with an almost jaunty smile. “Hi Dean-o.”

“Wait,” Dean snapped. “You’re Cas’ brother?” 

There was a note of warning in Dean’s voice but Gabriel did not hear it. He just kept on smiling his smile. Castiel wasn’t sure what he expected Dean to do but landing a right hook across the archangel Gabriel’s face was not on the list. 

“Where the hell were you?!” Dean all but roared as Gabriel crashed into the wall, stunned beyond stunned that a human had been so audacious. “Cas waited for you guys and you just left him. You left him when he needed you-”

“Dean,” Castiel said, quietly, taking Dean’s hand in his own, mostly to stop Dean from trying to punch Gabriel again. “It’s okay.”

But anger flared in Dean’s eyes. “It’s  _ not _ okay, Cas! They just left you and-”

“Yeah, look...we’re sorry about that, Castiel,” Gabriel interrupted but he didn’t sound particularly sorry. “You’ve been gone a long time and Heaven’s changed a lot since you left it.” 

“Have you stopped hearing prayers in that time?” Castiel snarled a little more viciously than he intended. At the sound of his pain, Dean almost jerked free of his grip but Castiel held him tightly. In the course of his long, angelic life he’d entertained a number of scenarios but he’d never quite imagined becoming human and having to hold his human mate back from fist fighting the archangel Gabriel. 

Gabriel had the decency to look uncomfortable at that. He shifted awkwardly. “No...we did hear you but...like I said Heaven’s changed a lot, okay? And we genuinely didn’t know that being cut off from us like that would see you fall.” At that he looked genuinely pained. “Really, we didn’t. But then your grace practically exploded,” he winked at Dean who scoffed, his fist curling again, “and here I am. Ready to bring you back. You can come home, your grace will come back in time and you’ll be an angel again.” 

“ _ What?! _ ” Castiel hissed. 

Gabriel opened his mouth to reiterate the point but Dean… Dean’s grip went limp in Castiel’s hand and he struggled to meet Castiel’s eye. When he did, there was only an ocean of sadness and Dean tried to take his hand back. It struck Castiel that Dean thought he might actually be considering it…

“I’m not leaving,” he said quickly, more to Dean than anyone else. “Dean, I’m not. I’m staying here with you.” 

“What?” Gabriel laughed. “Castiel, be serious-”

“I am serious,” Castiel snapped, glaring at his brother. “I’m happy here. I’m happy as a human and I don’t want to give that up especially not for my brothers who abandoned me.” 

“We didn’t abandon you, Cast-” Gabriel started but Dean silenced him with a look. 

Castiel couldn’t help but feel a frisson of heat spark through him at Dean’s fearlessness as well as how incensed he was on Castiel’s behalf. No doubt if he’d had the slightest comprehension of who it was he was addressing he’d be considerably more contrite. But he didn’t, so he wasn’t. Dean Winchester looked ready to smite Gabriel for the unforgivable crime of upsetting Castiel. 

Gabriel held his hands up defensively. “You’re really not coming home with me?” 

Castiel felt almost smug as he settled against Dean’s side, their bodies slotting together as naturally as they ever had. “I  _ am _ home, Gabriel. I am exactly where I want to be.” 

Something flashed briefly in Gabriel’s eyes. Sympathy, maybe? Understanding? As an angel, Castiel would have understood but such things were beyond his understanding now. Yet he couldn’t find it within himself to mourn the loss. 

“Okay,” Gabriel sighed. “If you’re sure.” 

Castiel didn’t feel the need to dignify that with an answer but he was a little relieved that they seemed to be parting on moderately good terms. 

“Alright. Goodbye, Castiel and...I really am sorry.”

“I’m not,” Castiel said but Gabriel was already gone. A familiar sound of wings that Castiel knew he would never hear again and all was as it had been down to the mug that Gabriel had apparently smashed upon his arrival; whole once again and resting beside the sink. 

Dean let out a shaky breath. “What just happened?” 

Castiel couldn’t help but chuckle, his hand moving to stroke its way through Dean’s hair as though he could calm his heart. Castiel could see it pounding at the pulse point in his neck. “I told Heaven I wasn’t coming home. I want to stay with you.” 

“Right,” Dean breathed. “That’s what I thought you said.” 

Castiel gave him what he hoped was a reassuring kiss but Dean seemed too stunned to respond. “I love you, Dean. You’re not simply my best option for a life here. I choose you. I will always choose you.” 

“Huh,” Dean sighed as though he couldn’t quite believe that he was worthy of such a compliment. But that was okay. Castiel had the rest of their lives to prove it to him. “So...uh...what now?” 

Castiel arched an eyebrow and felt his lips quirk into a wicked grin, entirely unbecoming of an angel. “I believe I remember something about a shower and then round two?”

Dean laughed and he pulled Castiel close again so he could claim his lips. “Whatever you say, angel.” 

Castiel stared into Dean’s eyes but only for a moment before he pulled him towards the bathroom. If he was going to show Dean how worthy he was of Castiel’s love then he was going to start immediately. 


End file.
